The Fellowship of the Bra
by Spoofmaster
Summary: The Fellowship of the Bra begin their quest to Mordor. Dyslexic elves, delinquent hobbits, pothead wizards, and horny future kings abound. It may sound like a slash or sex fic, but it isn't, because those suck. Complete!
1. Prologue

Hello and welcome to the newest story I have cowritten with my brother.  Enjoy it, or we will come after you with barbeque forks.

Disclaimer:  We don't own things.  Go to hell.

Note:  An inaccuracy in the numbers of objects has been fixed.  Thanks go to Estella Brandybuck for pointing it out.

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Long ago, the mystical elf smiths of unknown origin (possibly from Mars) came together with a plan to concentrate the power of all the magic everywhere into a set of objects.  There was much argument over what the objects should be.  Some foolish suggestions included swords, medallions, and even something as stupid as rings.Ultimately they realized that the only true path was to make these sacred objects undergarments, so that they could be easily concealed, and to deter thieves, because, let's face it, who wants to wear someone else's underpants?  ****

Deep in their mountain forges the elven smiths stitched carefully for many hours, and finally emerged with their masterpieces.

The dwarves received seven pairs of delicate, lacy panties, to feed their deep, inner perviness.  There were, of course, only three, because no one really likes dwarves, and who can blame them?  Also, it has been much debated as to whether any power was actually funneled into these prizes, or if it was just a ruse to get rid of the dwarves before they stunk the place up any worse.

To the men went nine pairs of large, manly boxers featuring pictures of things like bulldogs and machine guns, so that they may boast of how much room they had, and how much they truly needed in addition to it.  To compensate for the sad truth, they were always sure to carry very large swords and ride fast, noisy horses that looked like they were going one hundred miles an hour when they were standing still.  ****

The elves, the most vain, effeminate, and, above all, conceited of the races, were given three corsets to hopefully choke the life out of the bastards.  To everyone's dismay, this attempt failed, and some elves could be seen wandering around with disturbingly thin waists.  ****

But they were all of them deceived (now that's what I call low quality grammar, there), for one of the apprentices of the elven smiths, Sauron, had watched and listened carefully to the making of the garments, and learned well how to create them, especially the cross stitch.  In secret, he made another silky darling deep in the dark recesses of his mother's basement before retiring to his Star Trek chat rooms.  It was the One Bra, the most powerful and sexy of all the underwear of power, and he wore it with pride and a sick lack of sexual identity.  ****

A desperate alliance of all the races came to defeat him and his army of role players and fanfic writers.  They came because of their disapproval of his inappropriate antics as he had often pranced around his front yard, wearing nothing but the Bra and a pair of sweatpants, while eating canned cake frosting with his fingers.  ****

The legions of protesting warriors quickly slew his role players and fanfic writers as they whimpered and pissed themselves (Which, I might add, only does 2- damage).  Sauron shot various missiles and lasers out of his powerful chest wear, killing large quantities of his enemies.  ****

Thinking fast, Isildur took off his boot and threw it at Sauron, smacking him squarely upside the head, and knocking him out.  Isildur and Elrond quickly removed Sauron's bra, chopped his head off, and threw him in a dumpster.

"Hey, how do I look?" joked Isildur, shocking Elrond by donning the forbidden booby baskets.

"Awful!" screamed Elrond, wrenching it off and trying to burn it with a lighter.  "Damn.  It won't burn.  That means he made it so well that we can only burn holes through the cups if we use a cigarette from his own personal stash."

"Okay."

So, they headed down into Sauron's mother's basement, seeking the one thing that could destroy the evil...ness.  (You try to come up with a new word for bra every two minutes.  Go to hell.)  Isildur carried it, and Elrond searched for the pack of cigarettes.  

"You know what?I think I'm going to keep it," said Isildur, heading up the stairs.  "It's cool."

"Nooooo!" shouted Elrond.  "Destroy it!  It makes you look like a queer!"

But the heart of Isildur was not to be swayed by such small matters.  He took the bra, and wore it almost every day, in plain sight.  He even developed a habit of eating canned cake icing with his fingers.  ****

This was destined to end quickly.  Isildur was killed by a band of roaming cross dressers in search of new and exciting wardrobe opportunities.  Sadly for them, the body of Isildur fell into a river, and they were deathly afraid of water because it might stain their various finery.  ****

The bra was found by Gollum, who took it to a secret mountain lair, and wore it to play tea party with his many dolls he had made out of fish heads and the skin from the hind ends of those orcs unfortunate enough to interrupt him.  He did this for five hundred years, never caring how very scummy it had become. 

But the bra abandoned Gollum by unhooking itself, and was found by a most unlikely visitor named Bilbo Baggins.  Bilbo subsequently ran off with it, and tried it on at the first opportunity.  To his delight, he found that the sight of him with the bra snuggled over his fat hobbit mantits was so repulsive that people would unconsciously look the other way, allowing him to do as he damn well pleased.  ****

And so the bra came to be in the Shire, in the possession of Bilbo.  That's where our story begins, many years later....


	2. Demonic Hell Smial

You know what? We do own Lord of the Rings. So send us money.

Frodo stood in the shade of a tree, glaring at it most angrily.

"Stupid tree," he muttered. "Being taller than I am."

He gave it a vicious kick, and was disappointed to find that trees are very hard, and that bare feet are not.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an approaching carriage, interspersed with a few shouts of pain every time Gandalf's head collided with a low-hanging branch.

"Gandalf!" he cried happily, dashing to where a hillock overlooked the road. Without stopping, he took a flying leap...and hit the side of the horse. He slid down it, and was stepped on by its hind hoof.

'Crunch!' went Frodo's femur. He cried in pain, just as the right front wheel began running over him.

'Crackle snap pop!' went Frodo's spine. He tried to roll out of the way, but wasn't fast enough, and the second wheel hit him.

'Pow!' went Frodo's shoulder as it was crushed to bits.

"Oh, crap!" exclaimed Gandalf. "I'd better go back for him!"

He quickly stopped the carriage, and put his horse in reverse.

"Unnnghnn!" commented Frodo as he tried to claw his way out of the vehicle's path.

'Squish!' went Frodo's ribcage as the rear wheel went back over him.

'Bang!' went Frodo's pelvis as the next wheel snapped it into three pieces.

'Snap!' went Frodo's arms and legs as the horse stepped on them.

Gandalf jumped down next to the mutilated body of Frodo Baggins, stopped too late, and stepped on his face.

"Oh, shit," said Gandalf. "I'm going to get it now!"

"Bllllllehhhhh," replied Frodo, as blood leaked out his nose.

Luckily, Gandalf was a wizard, and wizards know a lot of stuff. So, he set Frodo's bones and put him in a nice comfy new body cast. Then he tossed him up into the carriage next to the explosives he had brought for Bilbo's party.

"Yrryrrk," said Frodo discontentedly.

As they rode into town, several hobbits took notice.

"Hey, what is that on Frodo?" commented one hobbit suspiciously.

"Uhhhhh...a super wizard fun suit?" ventured Gandalf. The hobbit shook his head. Not angry. Just disappointed.

When they got to Bag End, Gandalf grabbed Frodo and carried him up to the door. He tried to open it, but it was stuck, so he was forced to use Frodo as a battering ram. Once inside, he carefully leaned Frodo up against the wall in the hall closet, and quietly shut both doors.

"Hnnnhhh," complained Frodo.

"Quiet, you," said Mr. Peabody, before exploding and leaving a large greasy spot on the floor.

"Bilbo Baggins! Are you here?!" boomed Gandalf inappropriately loudly.

"No!" answered Bilbo.

"All right then," said Gandalf, as he started in on Bilbo's larder and stash of pipe weed.

Two hours later, Bilbo arrived home, along with Frodo, who was quite healthy.

"Bilbo," sighed Gandalf, after peeking in the closet, "Did you know that there's some sort of horrible dimensional rift in your house?"

"Yes," said Bilbo, "Isn't it great? Sometimes it gives me extra food."

Just then, the chandelier fell, crushing Gandalf to death instantly.

"MMMMHHHMMFFF!" came a horrible noise from the closet.

"Oh, it's another one of those horrible clones from another dimension that keep showing up," muttered Bilbo after he had seen what was in among his coats and umbrellas. "Check it out, Frodo, it looks like you, only retarded."

"Blllreeeeehhhhh," said Injured Clone Frodo (With Amazing Drooling Action!).

"Well, it looks like the universe has chosen to give us this instead of dinner tonight," sighed Bilbo. "Ah well. Go get the sausage grinder. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade!"

Later that night, at Bilbo's party, Gandalf was talking to his hobbit friends.

"Wow, Bilbo, this is the best sausage I've ever had!" commented Gandalf. "But...what's this?" he asked, fishing out from the sausage plate the tip of a wizard's hat and a piece of hobbit-made cloth.

"Um," said Frodo, "It's uh...a garnish."

An explosion rocked the ground, and Frodo turned his head to look at it. Upon seeing it was nothing to be concerned about, he completed the turn, bringing his head around to face Gandalf after a full three hundred sixty degrees.

Gandalf blinked twice and walked over to where the explosion had been. Two mischievous hobbits had been at the center of the prank, but now they were around the edges, in many pieces.

"Wow," commented Merry, as he and Pippin surveyed the carnage. "I'm sure glad that wasn't us."

"Yeah," said Pippin. "And we were just about to come over and start blowing stuff up, too."

Just then, Bilbo stood up on a keg and called for everyone's attention.

"I peed my pants," said Bilbo. "So now I have to go away forever. I'll never see any of you again, but that's okay, since I really don't like you anyhow." He pulled out the Bra, and strapped it on. "See my sexy boobies!" cried Bilbo, rubbing the cups disgustingly.

"Oh God no!" cried everyone, looking away. (Yes, they all cried it. They're psychically linked.)

When they dared to look back at where Bilbo had been a few minutes earlier, he was gone, and they puzzled over his disappearance, for their minds had automatically deleted the scene from their memory. In time, they forgot he had ever existed, and the only trace left of him was in children's tales, where he appeared as a great and purple monster that ate puppies.

Commercial Break.  Fetch your popcorn or suffer.

A family of filthy hillbillies sat at home, enjoying their dinner. The family consisted of a boy and his father.

"Pa, this here duck is all stringy and hard to eat!" complained the Boy.

"What are you talking bout, Boy?" objected his Pa.  "I went and shot that duck today mahself!  I done shot it good, too, fifteen times!"

"I know, Pa," sniffled the Boy.  "It's awful hard to eat it, with all these bits of metal stuck everywhere."

"Just eat around the bullets, son," advised his Pa. 

"Pa, all this lead makes the duck taste like the shed out back!" whined the Boy.

"You been lickin mah shed, Boy?" inquired his Pa suspiciously.

"Yes, Pa." admitted the Boy, ashamed of himself.

"Has this ever happened to you?" inquired a mysterious voice from nowhere.  "Well, come on down to Leonard's Duck Shot Removal plant, and we'll solve all your duckfull problems!  See our patented duck purification process!"

A hillbilly dumped the tattered remains of a duck into a paper shredder, which ground it up.  Then, the result tumbled into a pot of hot and filthy water, the lead sank to the bottom, and the "meat" was fished out with a pool skimmer, along with several cockroaches that had fallen in and died.

The Boy and his Pa now ate piles of flakes of burned meat.

"Pa, this duck tastes like shit!" shouted the Boy angrily.

"Just keep eating, son," counselled his Pa.

"And remember," smiled the voice invisibly, "Leonard's gets the lead out!"

Gandalf stood in the living room back at Bag End.

"You think you're really clever, don't you?" he asked, looking up at Bilbo.

Or, rather, at Bilbo's head, which was kept aloft by a steady torrent of blood gushing up from the neck of his body at phenomenal speed. Gandalf sighed, and kicked the body over, causing the head to lose its delicate balance, topple from its position high in the air, and roll into the fire.

"Why yes, yes I do," replied Bilbo, coming out of the kitchen with a tray of scones. Blood continued to issue from the corpse, washing across the floor in morbid little waves.

"I kill kill urrgrhhhrgghhhhrhhhh kill kill!" cried the head in the fire.

"Ugh. This place is wearing me down Gandalf," sighed Bilbo. "I feel thin, like butter scraped over too much bread."

"I daresay your bread has more than enough butter," commented Gandalf, looking at the scones. Bilbo followed his gaze, and found that they were suddenly dripping with globs of lard.

"You see what I have to put up with?!" he groaned, chucking the tray into the fireplace. The scones crawled up onto the severed head, bored through the eyeballs, and created a new hive in it. "This is exactly why I want to leave!"

"Well, leave, then," said Gandalf. "But give it all to Frodo. It'll be funny."

"Even my...Bra?"

"After what you did tonight, I don't think it's a good idea to let you have that," rumbled Gandalf. "So yes."

"All right then," said Bilbo, grabbing up his bag and heading out the door.

"Bilbo..." said Gandalf, carefully averting his eyes. "You're still wearing the Bra."

"Why, it seems that I am," said Bilbo in mock surprise. "But...it's so snuggly comfy, and gives such great support...I think I'll keep it."

Gandalf commenced beating Bilbo over the head with his staff.

"Okay, I give!" cried Bilbo, taking the accursed lingerie off and tossing it on the floor. He stepped out onto the path.

"Oh, I thought up an ending for my book," said Bilbo, looking back at Gandalf. "'And he screwed many donkeys, until his donkey lust was satisfied.'"

"I'm sure you will, Bilbo," said Gandalf sentimentally.

Frodo arrived half an hour later, to find Gandalf sitting on the front porch.

"Gandalf," said Frodo, "Why are you sitting on my front porch?"

"I couldn't stand it in there any more," muttered Gandalf.

Another Gandalf poked his head out the window.

"I've got some lovely potatoes," it said. "Why don't you like me?"

"Hallo!" said another Gandalf, sticking its head out of another window. "I've got chronometers for sale!"

"Oi," said yet another Gandalf, popping out of a window that had not previously been there, "I've got some heads!"

"How ya doin?" said all the Gandalf heads crammed in the net it was waving at them.

"Well, anyway," said the one true Gandalf to Frodo, "Bilbo's run off and the house and all his money are yours now. But, if you want the money, you have to live in the house, and if you don't spend at least a month in it, it's a ten million dollar fine."

"But why?" sobbed Frodo, shrinking away from the horror that was now his to deal with.

"Because I think it's funny," said Gandalf. "Anyway, I'm going to leave now, and go chase hookers for a couple of years. Ta."

Gandalf walked off into the night, leaving Frodo all alone in front of his not so funhouse.

"Ooo, a sleepover," commented one of the apparition Gandalfs. "We'll do makeovers!"


	3. Donut Men

We're Rick James, bitch, and you aren't.

2 YEARS LATER:

Gandalf lay back, satisfied with his night's activity. The hooker beside him looked over, pulled out a bottle of gin, and commenced to chugging. Gandalf wondered about her, wondered who she was, where she had come from, and why she was a hooker. He felt a sudden urge to tell her about the Bra of Power, but—****

"No no no," said Mort, frowning at the screen. "That's just bad writing."

"Shut up, corn face!" replied MysticButtCrystal. "Go enjoy your damn steamin' bowl and leave us the hell alone."

Mort simply grinned and rubbed his little corn prongs together creepily. ****

"Seriously, dude, get the hell away from us."

Mort looked dejected and crawled back onto his couch, leaving the authors to go on by themselves.

"Hey, yeah, hooker lady," said Gandalf, "I have this short friend with poor foot hygiene, and he has a bra, and if he wears it, no one can stand to look at him, so he's, like, invisible and stuff."

"Oh, you must mean the One Bra," said the hooker. "It was made by Sauron, and it's all evil. You should go do something about that."

Gandalf turned to look at her, startled, but his time had run out and she left.

"I should go to some mysterious place full of scrolls and research this," he said to himself. "But first, acid. Mmmmmmm, psychotropic...."

5 YEARS LATER:

Frodo sat in the corner of his living room, rocking back and forth. He stared with wide eyes at the world around him. In the last few weeks, his house had been conquered, room by room, by a regiment of donut men. Donut men were, of course, donuts with arms and legs, and horrible bottomless mouths, into which they fed packing peanuts, most of Frodo's worldly possessions, and the souls of the damned. They came from an extremely stupid dimension, even more so than the one in which they were now terrorizing the young hobbit. He had survived only by hiding from them with the power of his Bra and subsiding on their recon patrols.

"What's all this then?!" demanded Gandalf, bursting in the door. He was immediately set upon by a company of donut men, who devoured every last bit of him in a matter of seconds. ****

Just then, the donut men all suffered massive heart attacks from their high cholesterol levels. They were, after all, donuts.

"Is it just me, or is this place getting even worse?" asked Gandalf, walking in the door.

"Please Gandalf, take me away from here!" moaned Frodo, unstrapping the Bra and stepping forward.

"Give me that!" cried Gandalf, snatching the Bra and throwing it into the fire.

"Nooooooo!" wailed Frodo.

Gandalf fished the glowing bra out with a fire poker, and held it out to Frodo, who stepped back, wary.

"Take it," said Gandalf. "It's quite cool."

"If you say so," sighed Frodo, and he held out his hand. Gandalf dropped it into his hands.

"AAHH ERU, MY HANDS!" screamed Frodo, as the glowing red Bra caused the skin on his hands to bubble and blister.****

"Oh, quit your whining, you baby," scolded Gandalf. "Do you see anything?"

"My red hot blistering hands, maybe."

"I mean on the Bra."

"Oh," Frodo squinted at it. "It says 'Property of Sauron.'"

Gandalf closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh of resignation. "Then it is the One Bra, and it must be destroyed with the Cigarettes of Doom. You must go on a quest to Mordor and burn holes through the cups with one of Sauron's cigarettes."

"What if I don't?"

"Then Sauron will send his winged monkeys to rape you up the butt," growled Gandalf grumpily. Just then, a hobbit fell through the sunroof Frodo's house suddenly had. His neck snapped on impact, and he moved no more. Frodo turned him over with his foot, and looked at his face.

"I think it's Sam, my gardener," said Frodo. And indeed, it was the countenance of his longtime servant.

"You know how this house works," said Gandalf dismissively. "In a few minutes, he'll come back to life, or another one will walk in the door. Just wait."

And so they waited, staring at the body.

Nothing happened.

A demonic sprite climbed up through the floor, jammed a fire poker up the corpse's ass so it stuck straight up in the air, raised a banner that said 'Come see scenic Demon Land' on it, and melted into a puddle of cheese. ****

Gandalf and Frodo continued to wait, but nothing more happened.

"I guess that was the real Sam, then," said Frodo. "Damn." ****

"Well," said Gandalf, "You need to get going on your quest. Take Sam with you. He may be useful on the road ahead."

"He's dead, Gandalf," said Frodo. ****

"Yes, yes, I know," said the wizard. "Here, so he doesn't run off."

Gandalf placed a manacle on Frodo's left ankle, which was attached to a chain, which was attached to another manacle, which he attached to Sam's arm.

"And he can carry your stuff,' said Gandalf, strapping huge heavy packs onto Sam.

Frodo looked on in dismay.

"And here, take some of these, too," said Gandalf, wrapping up a platoon of donut men and jamming them into one of the bags on the late Sam. "They look...nutritious."

Frodo opened his mouth to complain, but was herded out the door.

"Oh, and remember," smiled Gandalf, "You can't wear the Bra normally anymore, because Sauron will know and send his flying monkeys to do you-know-what. You should wear it on your head from now on."

Frodo pulled out a piece of paper, and scrawled a quick letter to the Sackville-Bagginses, telling them they could take Bag End. He smirked to himself as he placed it in the mailbox to be sent out the next day.

He shuffled through Hobbiton on his way to Eru-knows-where, since Gandalf hadn't even pointed out a direction for him. He obediently wore the Bra strapped onto his head like a bad hat, and dragged the considerable combined weight of Sam and all his supplies by his left foot.

"I always knew them Baggins folk was strange," commented Odo Proudfoot. ****

Gandalf arrived at Bag End, weary from his long travels. Gandalf met him at the door.

"What's this?" asked Real Gandalf. "Where's Frodo?" ****

"Oh, he left a while ago," said Crazy Fake Gandalf. "He took his gardener with him, to go on a quest."

"Where did you send him, you freak?" demanded Real Gandalf. Crazy Fake Gandalf cackled and turned into a guinea pig, which levitated off the floor, spun in circles, and became smaller and smaller until it could no longer be seen. ****

"I hate this house," grumbled Gandalf.

Frodo walked through a wheat field, depressed. Sam continually wore him down, and made nasty little noises whenever pieces of him got caught on things or bent in bad ways. His rear continued to sport the jaunty advertisement, and it waved back and forth in the air as Sam bumped and grated along the ground.

A figure approached him.

"Hey, what are you doing?" asked Sam. Frodo whirled to look at the corpse he was burdened with, but it had not spoken.

"I'm over here, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, stepping closer. Frodo looked back and forth between the corpse and Sam in confusion.

"But this isn't Bag End," complained Frodo.

"Of course it's not," said Sam. "It's a wheat field."

"Then who is this?" asked Frodo, gesturing to his "helper."

Sam tipped the body over and scrutinized the face.

"Oh, well, that's my evil twin who's out to ruin my reputation, Mr. Frodo," said Sam. "See, you can tell by his black clothes, dark cloak, thin curly mustache, and top hat. The fire poker up his ass is new, but knowing him...." ****

He stooped and pulled one of the corpse's eyelids open.

"See, he even has shifty eyes."

And indeed, the eye was shifting back and forth rapidly in a most suspicious way. ****

"Oh," said Frodo. And they continued on together, still dragging the evil body, since Sam had nothing to cut the chain with. He did, however, carry all the packs except the two "Gandalf" had stuffed with bricks. These they left behind. Since there were only three packs, this meant that he just carried one, and all it had were a few random articles of clothing and a lot of donut men.

Before long, they came upon Merry and Pippin, who promptly cut the chain with their lock cutter.

"Why do you even have that?" inquired Frodo.

"Oh, we were just going to break into Farmer Maggot's 'secret garden' and steal all his special plants," explained Merry.

"Oh, yes," added Pippin, "and then we would go and watch A Clockwork Orange at my house." ****

"Oh," said Frodo, accepting this explanation without missing a beat. "Want to come on a horrific quest of death to Mordor to burn some holes in a Bra with me?"

"That's what we're doing?" asked Sam.

Just then, one of the Nazgul showed up on the path.

"NEEEEEEEEEEERCH!!" commented the Nazgul as it dismounted and walked toward them, sword drawn. Sam promptly kicked it in the nuts, and it went down hard, clutching its undead wedding tackle, bulldog-themed boxers doing absolutely nothing. Maybe the elven smiths should have made him a cup instead. ****

"What the hell was that?" asked Pippin, after they had departed in disgust.

"I dunno, but it was pretty stupid," replied Frodo. "So, are you coming?"

"Eh, why not," acquiesced Merry. Pippin just nodded, distracted by the mushrooms he had eaten.

"I've heard this Mordor place is somewhere east of here," offered Sam.

"We should just head that way then," said Frodo.

"Oh, and we can stop at Bree and get stinko drunk!" said Merry. "Money's not even an issue, since we held up that convenience store this morning."

"You know, you two have really changed since we were kids," accused Frodo. "Whatever, though, as long as you buy me some drinks."

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	4. Breeheeheehee

Arenelifinolenmothigolianagaluwenathur sat in the back corner of The Prancing Pony, staring out broodingly with her deep, penetrating emerald eyes at the rest of the customers. Her long, flowing auburn hair was covered by a crude hood on a wet cloak, but she somehow managed to look alluring and aloof. And alluring. Very, very alluring.

She sighed dramatically, and batted her lush eyelashes as she sipped daintily from the elegant wine glass she held. The Prancing Pony didn't have such glasses, so she must have brought it with her or something.

She watched as four bedraggled hobbits wandered into the inn and sat down at a table. Using her psychotically perfect observational skills, she noted that a man in a corner was watching them. He, however, did not notice her, because she was so damn good at blending in, despite her alluringness and out of place drinking vessel.

At last, Aragorn looked over and saw her, his legendary Ranger powers having finally kicked in. He felt a strange attraction to this mysterious woman with her delicate and aloof ways.

Her teal eyes flashed under her hood, blinding several people with their strobe light-like burst of illumination. Aragorn was very turned on by this, and decided to approach and use his best pickup line on her.

"Did it hurt?" he asked, slicking back his filthy, matted hair. The lice leapt away at his touch, vowing to return later.

"Did what hurt?" she inquired, distracting him with her full ruby red lips. He stared, and hardly paid attention to what he said next.

"When your boobs fell from Heaven," he drooled. "Oh...wait. Crap."

Any idiotcan probably guess what he had been staring at.

Arenelifinolenmothigolianagaluwenathur promptly grabbed him by his filthy hair and grubby tunic and threw him through the nearest window. Outside, a donkey investigated him comically.

"Holy shit, lady!" yelled Merry.

Arenelifinolenmothigolianagaluwenathur took this as him saying that he wanted to do the nasty with her, so she threw him out another window. The donkey wandered over and comically sat on his head.

"Hurhurhurhur," commented Pippin. "That was cool." He took another long drag on his bong.

Arenelifinolenmothigolianagaluwenathur grabbed him and threw him at the bar, where he smashed into the various kegs and bottles. Liquor splashed down all around him.

"Hurhurhurhurhurhurhurhur," he commented, wringing his shirt out into his mouth. "That was cool."

"Who else wants some?!" demanded Arenelifinolenmothigolianagaluwenathur, since she had just become a tomboy Sue.

"This bitch is crazy, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, as he and Frodo edged away from her. She immediately snatched them both up. Meanwhile, the comical donkey from outside had somehow gotten inside. She discarded of Sam by throwing him up into the rafters, and prepared to shove Frodo up the donkey's ass.

Just then, MysticButtCrystal and Spoofmaster sat down at their computer with the intention of starting chapter four of Lord of the Undergarments, and were thereby transported into the story.

"What the hell?!" exclaimed Spoofmaster, nearly speechless at the words that had magically come to be on the monitor.

MysticButtCrystal was somewhat quicker in his actions.

"You!" he shouted, pointing at Arenelifinolenmothigolianagaluwenathur, "Put down that hobbit! And you!" he whirled on the Comical Donkey. "Stop being so damn comical!"

The Comical Donkey looked slightly depressed.

"Yeah, that's right," said MysticButtCrystal. "Your existence is hollow, you fraud. You're a fraud. You're nothing! And stop holding your ass like you're expecting a hobbit! It's not happening!"

"Who would do this?!" asked Spoofmaster, poking around the room until she spotted a curtain made out of a scarlet fabric and lined with fuchsia. "Aha!"

"What the hell is fuchsia?" asked MysticButtCrystal. "You chicks have way too many colors."

"Never mind that now," said Spoofmaster dismissively.

"Seriously, though," complained MysticButtCrystal. "The curtain is dark red with purplish pink trim."

"No, it's not. If it were someone else behind it, it would be, but..." Spoofmaster yanked it aside, "It's Celestina Windbreaker!"

"The villain from Mary Sue Mockfest 2003?" asked MysticButtCrystal.

"But of course," said Celestina, stepping out from her hiding place, clothed in a jarring dress of canary yellow and neon green. "I was just making your story better."

"No, you were making it suck," said Spoofmaster.

"Nonsense!" said Celestina. "Every story needs a good romance!"

"Ugh, that's it," growled MysticButtCrystal. "Get out of our fucking story!"

He chucked a beer bottle at her head, but she dodged it.

"Oh, you will regret that," she hissed. "How would you like to be a Sue in a slasheriffic Jack Sparrow lust story? It's not what I normally do, but I'm sure it can be arranged!" She laughed maniacally, much to everyone's disgust.

"Oh, you sick bitch!" yelled MysticButtCrystal.

"Sic her, Mort!" cried Spoofmaster.

"SHOOOTEERRR!" yelled Mort, who had snuck up behind Celestina while this was going on. He then smashed her over the head with a shovel, knocking her out.

"Now go tie her to your couch and guard her so she doesn't cause any more trouble," commanded Spoofmaster. Mort grumbled, but duct taped Celestina to one of the arms of his couch and sat down on the other end.

In the absence of Celestina's power, Arenelifinolenmothigolianagaluwenathurreverted into Winefred the pimply fangirl and fled, crying.

"That's right, you go away now," said MysticButtCrystal. "You...freaky...freak person!"

And with that, the two authors went back out of the immediate story.

The characters assembled somewhat dazedly in the inn.

"Damn, it's too bad," sighed Aragorn. "That chick was hot."

The hobbits shied away from his foul stench.

"Hey, what's that on your head?!" Aragorn suddenly asked, staring at the Bra on Frodo's head in bewilderment. "That better not be what I think it is!"

"Uhhhh..." said Frodo. "What do you think it is?"

"Well, it's mine now," said Aragorn, taking it away. "Mmmmm, silky," he muttered all horny-like. "I have a sudden craving for...cake icing!"

"It's eeeeevil!" cried Frodo. "It's going to possess you and turn you into a sicko-loser-cross-dressing-guy! Then Sauron will send his winged monkeys to ram you up the ass!"

"Holy shit, this is that Bra?! Take it!" Aragorn shoved it back into Frodo's hands. "But...why were you wearing it on your head?"

"Gandalf told me to."

"And that's why you should never trust a man who wears a corset,"stated Aragorn matter-of-factly. "Now, hide it away in one of your pockets. Saaaayy...I'm a great hero and stuff. Maybe I should join you on your quest. It would be cool! Besides, I have these buddies in Rivendell, and we can mooch off them for a while!"

"Well, okay," said Frodo. "But you can't come too close to us, because you smell really bad."

"Hey," said Aragorn rather urgently, "Have you seen any big black horsemen of doom?"

"Uhm...yeah," said Merry, since he hadn't had a line in a while.

"I kicked him in the nuts," said Sam proudly.

"This is bad," said Aragorn. "They'll be here tonight. Quickly, we must rent a room and then go stay somewhere else."

"Hey, I have an idea," said Pippin.

The Nazgul crept silently into the room they knew the hobbits to be staying in. They glided soundlessly across the floor, each taking up a position next to one of the beds, glaring down at the innocent little lumps under the covers. The Witch King signaled his three droogs, and they all raised their swords high, and struck downwards as hard as they could.

**BOOM!!!!**

The pressure-sensitive bombs under the mattresses all went off at once, demolishing the Prancing Pony and everything within three blocks. The hobbits looked on from the window of their room on the other side of town to see a giant mushroom cloud.

"Did you have to use that much explosives?" asked Aragorn from his own little private corner.

"No," said Pippin.

"Why, then?" asked Sam.

"Because it's cool. Besides, it would have felt like a waste not to use all of what we got from robbing the armory," Pippin shrugged. "Anyway, the stuff's heavy, and if I hadn't've used it all, you guys probably would've made me carry it."

"You blew up a fourth of the city Pippin!" accused Merry. "You've probably killed a few hundred people! That was really cool."

Weathertop wasn't exactly near to Bree, but nothing really interesting happened on the way. Basically they just walked along, telling crude stories and making cruder jokes. Aragorn made fun of Pippin when he got the munchies, and Frodo got stuck in a drainage pipe, but that was really it. So, we skip ahead, to when Aragorn saw Weathertop and decided they should spend the night there.

"Look," said Aragorn. "There's Weathertop. We should spend the night there!"

"...Why?" asked Frodo.

"It's a really cool setting," snapped Aragorn.

"Why don't we stay there?!" demanded Pippin, pointing to a nearby inn.

"You know how inns have innkeepers?" asked Aragorn. "Well, this one kind of had a wife, and I kind of slept with her. He also kind of had a prize pig, and I kind of slept with her too and then I kind of ran off with her."

"Was it a threesome?" asked Pippin, quite interested.

"Not at first," admitted Aragorn. "The pig joined in later."

"Where's the pig now, then?" asked Frodo, not believing any of this.

"Well, one night during the winter, it got really cold, so I had to slit her open and sleep inside her," explained Aragorn.

"She was that loose?" asked Pippin.

Frodo slapped Pippin, and Sam kicked Aragorn in the shin.

And with those disgusting developments, our heroes started climbing Weathertop, and the chapter ended due to adverse conditions.


	5. N is for Nazgul Nazgul go Neerch

Disclaimer: This story is rubbish. You've been warned.

The hobbits collapsed on the ledge, exhausted from the climb up Weathertop, since Aragorn had insisted that they could not possibly sleep anywhere but right near the summit. 

"Hey," said Aragorn, peering down at the inn below. "You know that inn that kind of had an innkeeper who kind of had a wife and a prize pig?"

"Yeah..." replied Frodo suspiciously.

"Well, it kind of looks like he kind of has a prize cow now," said Aragorn. "I'll see you in a couple hours. Here are some weapons." He dumped a pile of ninja stars at the hobbits' feet. 

"Ugh," said Frodo, and he went to sleep.

When Frodo woke up, it was to the crackling of a bonfire and the sounds of his companions, stoned off their asses, dancing around it and making screechy noises.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded, hopping up and trying to extinguish the fire by stamping on it. It was, however, a bonfire, and his leg disappeared up to the knee in it with each stomp.

"Aargh!" cried Frodo, realizing his mistake. 

"NEEERCH!" commented the Nazgul from a few feet down the hill.

As Frodo was lying on the ground and writhing in painand the other hobbits were hopelessly chucking ninja stars at the Nazgul, which mostly flew off harmlessly, othetr than those that decapitated a family of squirrels, the Witch King approached, slowly and deliberately, and very melodramatically stabbed Frodo in the shoulder.

"No! Bad Nazgul!" cried Aragorn, charging up the hill. He reached the Witch King, and began beating him about the head with a rolled-up newspaper. "You do NOT stab people! Bad!" 

He grabbed the Witch King by the collar and forced him to the ground, practically rubbing his nose in Frodo's injury.

"Look what you did!" yelled Aragorn. "Look at it!"

"Aowwrr," whimpered the Witch King. With that, Aragorn threw him off the side of Weathertop. The other Nazgul slunk away after him, tails tucked between their legs. 

"Urgh..." interjected Frodo discontentedly.

Aragorn knelt beside him and studied the wound.

"Yup, he's been stabbed," said Aragorn knowledgeably. "Let's go—we need to reach Rivendell. I grew up there. We can mooch off my great times 39 uncle, Elrond Elfyman." 

"Is that really his name?" asked Sam.

"No," said Aragorn. "It's just Elfyman." 

"You're still lying, aren't you?"

"Probably."

"Euueuueuuhh," interrupted Frodo the attention whore. They looked over to see him lying on the ground. He was still stabbed, but now several vampires had come over and seemed to be sucking on him. 

"Hey, get away from him," said Aragorn, moving towards them. Luckily for him and the hobbits, his muscles were "different," and the vampires couldn't read his moves. Also, his heavy natural musk so offended them that they willingly ate some garlic and died. 

"That whole vampire thing is fucking stupid," proclaimed MysticButtCrystal.

"Musk!" said Spoofmaster.

"Seriously, though, that whole thing doesn't work. We should edit it out of the final version."

"Okay. The world...will never know."

However, they did not edit it out of the final version, and thousands of innocents died as a result. 

"I'm so glad you know this method of transporting injured people, Aragorn," said Merry, helping with Frodo. "But don't you think it's a bit rough?"

"Of course not!" Aragorn reassured him, giving Frodo another good kick to keep him rolling down the slope. "It builds character!" 

"But how are we going to move him once we reach flat land?" inquired Sam nervously.

"Well, we'll just...uhm...kick harder?" offered Aragorn. 

"You're stupid," stated Pippin.

A few hours later, the travelers were a short distance from Rivendell. Frodo was looking a bit worse for the wear. "A bit worse" meaning he was one giant bruise with a bloody nose, and "the wear" meaning having been kicked in various places very hard, only to move two inches at a time. 

Arwen, Glorfindel, and Animated Legolas suddenly converged on them as they were resting. Each of the three rode a snowy white horse, except for Animated Legolas, whose horse was off-white, because it was not a virgin horse. 

"Nnneeiigh!" commented the slutty horse hornily. 

"Mmmmm," grinned Aragorn, looking over at it. Sam slapped him. 

"Behold!" cried Animated Legolas, leaping down from his perverted steed and nancing about in his tights and sequined cape, which shimmied and sparkled at his every move. "I have come to rescue you in your peril!"

"Like hell you have!" yelled Glorfindel, hopping down from his own super horse. "I'm the one in the book!"

"Hello, Aragorn," said Arwen softly. "I hope you are well."

"Hey, at least I have some fashion sense!" lisped Gay Animated Legolas, showing off his thighs.

"Oh, come on, like this story needs another gay elf!" growled Glorfindel angrily. "You and all your incarnations are what have ruined it for us! Besides, the only version where you come in and save Frodo here is that crappy half-assed cartoon!" 

"My lady, you do not look well," murmured Aragorn, helping Arwen down from her horse.

"Thank you for being so concerned, sir," said Arwen, her eyes going all sparkly and a soft background replacing the forest.

"Right, well, I know how to settle this," said Glorfindel.

"And how's that?" asked Animated Legolas. 

"Simple," said Glorfindel. "You kneel on the ground here and lean your head forward. Then I'll give you a big surprise!"

"Oh goody!" said Animated Legolas, getting into position. Glorfindel whipped out his trusty sword, and beheaded the other elf. 

"And now that that's done..." sighed Glorfindel, turning to look at his other competitor.

"I have missed you..." said Arwen. She coughed into her hand, and a diseased look came over her face.

"And I have missed you," said Aragorn, hugging her. Her face turned blue, and she collapsed, dead. Aragorn knelt beside her, shocked, and stared at her corpse, its blue hair just as it had been in life. He started to cry. 

"Well, then, I guess that's settled," said Glorfindel, hoisting Frodo onto his horse. "I'd send him on alone like in the book, but I really don't want to be here. These corpses disturb and anger me."

With that, he hopped on his horse behind Frodo, gave Animated Legolas's horse a good solid kick in the teeth, and took off for Rivendell.

A few minutes of bickering later, the rest of the group followed on the two remaining horses. The hobbits sat on Animated Legolas's lustful horse. They had really wanted to ride on Arwen's, but they didn't trust Aragorn with a creature so willing. Aragorn gently draped Arwen's corpse across the saddle of her own horse, and got on behind her. They left the body of Animated Legolas for the wolves. Or wargs, as the case may be. The Comedic Donkey trotted wistfully behind them, on his great and noble quest.

Glorfindel glanced back over his shoulder. Five Black Riders emerged from the woods behind him.

"My name is Ahahahahasfaloth," said his horse, Asfaloth. "This is looking pretty bahahahahad."

Actually, Asfaloth didn't say anything. Some stagehand had shoved peanut butter up into the back of his mouth, and some bad dubbing was going on. 

Glorfindel stabbed Asfaloth with his spurs vengefully, urging him on.

"NEERCH!" commented the Nazgul. Or is that Nazguls? Or Nazgulzises? Or Nazguli? Or Nazgui? 

Well, whatever. There was a plural of Nazgul of the number five, and a NEERCH they did commit to.

This quite startled their horses, who were still drunk from the bender they had gone on the night before. Being ridden by horrible undead zombies might also have had something to do with it. In any case, they bucked, throwing the Nazgul off just short of the river Glorfindel had crossed while we were dealing with all this plural form bullshit. The horses then ran off into the woods, never to be seen again. Maybe Tom Bombadil ate them out of spite for not being included in this version of the story. 

Seriously, we thought about it, but all we could come up with for him was a dirty hillbilly who touched himself a lot. 

ANYWAY...

"NEERCH!" commented the Witch King.

"Neerch?" asked one of his subordinates.

"Nee—

For your sake, we're going to start this exchange over from the first neerch, only translated into English

"DAMNIT!" yelled the Witch King.

"What will we do?" asked Bob.

Yes, his name was really Bob. It's just that when you hear them say it, it comes across with a certain, shall we say...neerch. 

"Let's just chase him across the river on foot," suggested Jeffrey.

"Oh, don't step in the river!" protested Percy. "You'll get your shoes all wet!"

"I guess we're just going to have to give up, then," sighed Dorian. 

Most Nazgul have to get all nasty and dead and ugly and shit by using rings. Dorian actually got his ring _after_ he got all nasty and dead and ugly and shit.

NO MORE NAZGUL LANGUAGE FOR YOU! 

"What are all those Nazgul neerching about?" wondered Aragorn, who had snuck over the river with the hobbits during the Nazgul's debate. Arwen suddenly sat up in front of him.

"ACK!" cried Aragorn, falling off the horse.

"Oh dear," said Arwen, pulling out a handkerchief and rubbing the blood off her mouth. "Did I startle you?" The cloth made squeaky noises on her skin, and she smiled sweetly.

"Uhmm...no, not at all!" said Aragorn, hopping to his feet and climbing back on the horse with her.

"Then we should go," said Glorfindel, and they all rode through the gates to Rivendell.

Meanwhile, in the not-so-real-as-you-may-think-because-you're-really-in-the-Matrix world, Celestina awoke. She looked over at the sloppy person dozing on the other end of the couch she was tied to, and gave a cry of dismay, because he, being unloved and fangirless, did not really come under her powers of Mary Sue stories. 

However, since he was Johnny Depp, she had a feeling she might be able to manipulate him on some level. 

"Don't bother," said MysticButtCrystal. "That's Mort's Couch of Depression and Degradation. Your magic will not work on it, and you're tied up."

"What sense does that make?" she cried indignantly. "And why doesn't he get off it?"

"What sense do _you_ make?" asked Spoofmaster, entering the room with a drink.

"You people are horrible!" wailed Celestina. "All I tried to do was make your story better!"

"Our story's beyond hope, so shut your mouth," snapped MysticButtCrystal. "Hey, Mort, wake up."

The authors poked Mort with sticks until he complied. 

"We think Mort wants to make you his sex slave," said MysticButtCrystal. "And you'd better do what he says, unless you want to end up in a steamin' bowl." 

"NOOOOOOO!" screamed Celestina melodramatically, setting a true example to her followers. Pedro came in, slapped her upside the head for stealing his line, and left. 


	6. Demonic Donkey Destruction

Sorry we're updating a day late, but we were up watching 28 Days Later last night and forgot.

Speaking of zombies, Tolkien rose from his grave a few days ago. He told us that we might as well hook him up to a power generator, so his constant spinning in his grave could light the world.

We blew his zombie head off with a boom stick. If you listen, you can still hear the whirring sound...

Elladan looked out the window towards the gates of Rivendell, and saw the five travelers come in.

"Hey, Dad," he said to Elrond, "It's Aragorn!"

Elrond started in dismay, shattering the model ship he had been building in a bottle. As for the bottle, it collapsed.

"That's the last thing I need, is another one of my mooching Numenorean great-whatever nephews coming back here," grumbled Elrond. "How many of those have I even had? It seems like they all just hang out here and do something tabloid-worthy every few weeks. Then I look bad."

"I think it's been something like thirty-five or forty now, Dad."

"I remember when his father, Arathorn, was always hanging around here and eating my food. Damn that was annoying, but at least he didn't smell so bad as this new one," growled Elrond. "And didn't I tell you to make him take a bath last time he was here?"

"Yeah, Dad, and I did it," sighed Elladan. "The bath water turned to mud and he was still dirty!"

"Well, we can't have him coming here and soiling our new couch," decided Elrond. "It's bad enough with those smelly dwarves hanging around."

"Why are there dwarves here, Dad?"

"I'm sure I'll remember sometime, son," said Elrond. "But in the meantime, we need to get rid of that idiot. Send out one of the border patrols to rough him up and chase him off. Tell them to pretend they don't know who he is."

"But Dad!" whined Elladan, "That's a horrible thing to do!"

"Fine then," growled Elrond. "Just tell the border patrol to grab him and wash him off in the river before he comes up here. Also, tell them to do it downriver of Rivendell."

Glorfindel rode ahead of the rest of the group with Frodo. The hobbits followed behind on their misappropriated horny horse, and Aragorn and Arwen came last on foot, Arwen leading her horse. They were a good five hundred yards back, and had chosen to walk so they could talk.

Actually, Aragorn had decided they would walk so he could flirt with her longer, and she just kind of went along with it.

Sildor and Mirtun the border guards stood to either side of the path. Glorfindel came to them first, since he was in the lead and in a hurry. Sildor motioned him over, and he parallel parked his horse to talk to them.

"What's all this aboot?" asked Sildor in a Canadian accent. Don't ask how he got it, it involves him, Mirtun (who also had the accent), and a back story longer and more convoluted than a Final Fantasy game. And no, we will not be writing it in the foreseeable future. You're just not worthy.

"I must deliver this hobbit before he spoils or all his fluids leak out this hole," said Glorfindel importantly. "If I don't complete this part of the trading game, I'll never get the Biggoron!"

Mirtun gave him a weird look, and waved him on. Frodo gasped and rolled his eyes dramatically. Little bitch.

"Ooo, look at me, I'm Frodo, I'm stab-bed! Everyone payattention to me!" mocked MysticButtCrystal as he pinched his shirt to make little nipples.

"Oh, shut up," snapped Spoofmaster.

"Could someone watch Celestina for me?" asked Mort. "I need to go out and pick some more cooooorn."

"You've had me here for a while," whined Celestina. "I need to go powder my nose!"

"Are you requesting to make a head call?" demanded MysticButtCrystal.

"...What?" asked Celestina.

"If you want to make a head call, you have to say 'Recruit Windbreaker requests to make a head call, sir!'" informed MysticButtCrystal.

Celestina sniffled, but complied. "I want to make a head call."

"SAY IT RIGHT!" screamed MysticButtCrystal, getting in her face.

"Recruit Windbreaker sniffle whine requests to make a head call, sir."

"DENIED!"

"But I need to pee!" moaned Celestina.

"You better not pee on my couch," growled Mort, shaking one of the cobs of corn he had just come in the door with at her.

"Do we get to be in the story anymore?" asked Sam.

MysticButtCrystal, Spoofmaster, Celestina, and Mort turned to the computer, from which the characters were staring at them angrily.

"Ohhhh..." said Spoofmaster. "We were writing a parody, weren't we?"

Merry, Pippin, and Sam arrived at where the guards were standing in a bit of a foul mood regarding the authors, their horse, and all having to ride in one saddle.

"I swear to Eru, Pippin, if that isn't a roll of quarters in your pocket, I'm going to be really pissed!" said Sam. Mirtun and Sildor exchanged glances.

"What's all this there, then?" asked Mirtun.

"We're friends of the rapidly spoiling hobbit," said Merry.

"You didn't hear that conversation, there," said Sildor. "How the heck did you know aboot that?"

"We heard the conversation," said Sam. "If we could hear that dumbass tangent the authors went on, we can have heard that conversation."

"Ahh, that's a lot more comfortable," said Pippin, pulling the roll of quarters out of his pocket.

Fooled you! You thought Pippin had a hard-on for Sam, didn't you? Ha-ha, you're stupid!

"Anyway, can we just go through?" asked Merry.

"Ah, sure, you betcha," said Sildor, waving them through.

The Comical Donkey stepped onto the path, weary from his wanderings after the travelers in the woods. He came to the elves, and sat down in a cute and comical way.

"I don't think we can let you in, there," said Mirtun. The Donkey looked upset for a moment, but then his resolve hardened.

The elves gazed deeply into the animal's eyes as they became hypnotic yet decidedly comical-looking spinning swirlies.

"How may we serve you, your evilness?" intoned both elves, powerless to resist the spell. The donkey made a funny braying noise at them.

"Yes, master," they replied, letting him past before snapping back to normal and forgetting the incident entirely.

"Damn you, Comical Donkey!" yelled MysticButtCrystal, as Spoofmaster hit the delete button repeatedly.

"He won't erase!" cried Spoofmaster.

"His power must be greater than our own," rumbled MysticButtCrystal. "Don't worry. We'll get him...someday."

Arwen and Aragorn came last, Arwen riding on her horse again since she had begun to feel ill.

"You can go ahead, there, Lady Arwen," said Mirtun, and she passed by them. Aragorn strode confidently alongside her steed, but was unexpectedly stopped by Sildor's arm when it barred his way.

"Eh what?" said Aragorn. "Elrond didn't tell you to pretend I was some stranger again, did he?"

"No," said Sildor. "But we have our orders."

A few short and miserable minutes of resistance later, Aragorn found himself in the river with two elves viciously cleansing him with coarse sponges and monstrous bars of soap.

"AHH, ERU, LET ME GO!" screamed Aragorn.

'No way in Hell,' thought Eru, holding his nose. 'His stench has been bothering me, and I'm not even in the same plane of existence!'

"Eru, you have forsaken me!" cried Aragorn as the sophisticated louse metropolis in his hair was wiped out.

'Forsaken you? Whenever anything goes wrong, you stupid people are all like, 'Help me Eru, help me! I can't do anything for myself!'' grumbled Eru mentally. 'And then when everything's all right, it's never like, 'Hey Eru, can I fluff your pillow? Hey Eru, can I fetch your slippers? Hey Eru, thanks for creating the world and all!' Hmph! Fuck you people!'

At last the deed was done. Aragorn stood at the bank of the befouled river, putting on the clothes they had brought for him and listening in dismay to the merry crackling of all his old clothes being burned.

"I'm a white guy?" wondered Aragorn, examining his hands. "Huh. Who knew? I guess now I can't listen to rap music or say 'nigga' anymore."

"You can go on to Rivendell now," said Mirtun, scrubbing the residue off his own hands.

Elrond, Elladan, Sam, Merry, and Pippin stood in the room with the wounded Frodo as Arwen patched him up.

"Here, take this, it will make you feel better," said Arwen, giving Frodo some Flintstones chewable morphine.

"There's no such thing!" objected Marge before barreling out the door.

Frodo let out a soft dramatic moan, feebly lifting his finger in yet another plea for attention.

"Can we please write an alligator into the bed with him?" asked MysticButtCrystal. "I'm so sick of his bullshit!"

"But if we kill him, who will be the Bra bearer?" asked Spoofmaster.

"Maybe when the alligator eats him, it would be possessed by him," suggested MysticButtCrystal. "Then, since it swallowed the One Bra, it would become, like, a super transvestite alligator Frodo of doom, destroyer of worlds!"

"Yes, and then we'd have a giant lizard that moaned all the time," complained Spoofmaster. "And then you'd want it to be eaten by a squid or something. And then it would be an oliphaunt, and then it would be an emu. Honestly, you have no taste."

"I need to pee!" cried Celestina.

"Mort, go get her a coffee can and a funnel," said MysticButtCrystal.

"What the hell happened to this hobbit?" demanded Elrond as soon as Aragorn entered the room. "He looks like he was run over by an oliphaunt! And then another oliphaunt! And then some trolls! And then one more oliphaunt!"

"Yeah," sighed Aragorn, running his fingers through his now-clean hair, and shuddering at the sensation. "That Nazgul sure had his way with him. It was all I could do to save him before he was dead."

"Hey," started Sam. Aragorn quickly covered Sam's mouth.

"Hey what's that?" cried Aragorn, pointing out the window. "Is that Luthien streaking?"

Everyone turned to look. When they turned back, Aragorn was standing just as he had been before, but Sam was out cold on the floor, a large lump forming on his head.

"Wow," said Aragorn. "Talk about delayed reactions to injuries! The Nazgul must've gotten him pretty bad, too!"

"Aragorn, get your hobbit-abusing butt out of here before I have my guards give you a manicure!" snapped Elrond.

Commercial Break!

"Tired of all those lovey-dovey candy corn brands?" asked Mort. "Well, I'm here to offer you something better. It's Ku Klux Korn!"

The Ku Klux Klan commenced to ride around in front of the audience and be hateful.

"This is the candy corn that dates back to the birth of a nation!" boasted Mort, unperturbed. "Yes, by buying it, you too can be part of a culture steeped in tradition and history."

The KKK rode around some more, and started terrorizing people and burning things. Mort smiled, showing his white, pure teeth.

"And right now, it's only a dollar a bag!" he cajoled, grinning. "Each piece contains plenty of detail!"

He held up a piece of candy corn, but instead of looking like corn, it was white and had holes so it looked like a KKK mask.

"Order now and receive a trial membership!" enticed Mort. "Unless, of course, you're an immigrant or non-Protestant Anglo-Saxon, in which case we've got a special kind of corn for you!" He held up a bag of cyanide pills, still grinning. "This corn is only twenty-five cents a bag, but it's only for you special people! So call now!"

KKK members circled a giant piece of Ku Klux Korn, which they lit on fire.

"And remember," reminded Mort, "Ku Klux Korn is the only official corn of hate!"

Spoofmaster threw a shoe, which struck Mort on the head.

"You've gone too far this time, Mort!" she shouted.

"I thought it was pretty funny," chuckled MysticButtCrystal.

"Do you remember when we discussed the fact that you have NO TASTE?" inquired his sister.

"I'm not racist, I'm just crazy!" protested Mort.

"You're not that crazy, you're just a sellout!" objected MysticButtCrystal.

What's that? Worst chapter you ever read? Well, our next one will be even better! ...Hello?


	7. Eat More Beans

The camera zoomed dramatically on an abandoned asylum during a rainstorm, as dramatic pipe organ music played in the background, then cut to a laboratory inside occupied by Dr. Weird and Steve.

"Gentlemen, behold!!" shouted Dr. Weird. His head fell off, and Steve looked bored.

------

Frodo awoke, light shining obnoxiously in his eyes. Visions of elves prancing around and chanting things still filled his morphine-riddled mind.

Not that there had ever been prancing, chanting elves in the first place.

"Huhh?" moaned Frodo, his head rolling over to the side. The alligator in his bed grinned at him.

------

"Bwahahaha!" laughed MysticButtCrystal evilly.

"You're stupid!" yelled Celestina, throwing the little tiara she had been wearing and hitting MysticButtCrystal in the back of the head with it.

Mort sobbed quietly in the corner because Spoofmaster had confiscated all of his corn in retaliation for his previous sponsorship deal, and given him beans instead.

"Damnit," said Spoofmaster, seeing what her brother had done.

------

An anvil suddenly fell through the ceiling, crushing the alligator's head and causing quite a mess. The Comical Donkey fell humorously through the hole after it, brayed comically, and jumped out the window.

Gandalf awoke from his nap, knocking over his water glass and a priceless ivory oliphaunt.

Frodo sat up, and discovered that he was wearing a lacy pink nightgown.

"What the hell is this?!" exclaimed Frodo, pulling at the silky fabric.

"You are in the house of Elrond," droned Gandalf. "It is-"

"No, not that!" growled Frodo, smacking Gandalf upside the head. "I mean, why the hell am I wearing this?!"

"I figured that since you're such a little bitch, you should probably be dressed like one," explained Gandalf.

Frodo stared at him in disbelief.

"There's a meeting soon," said Gandalf. "There' a really nice gown for you over there, and I got you some makeup."

Frodo was spared from having to respond when all his hobbitty little friends came rushing in.

"Oh, Mr. Frodo, I came as soon as I somehow magically knew you were awake!" cried Sam.

Gandalf paced across the room, and held up the dress, a stern look on his face. Frodo sighed, got up, took it from Gandalf, and went behind the screen to change.

------

Boromir approached Rivendell on his trusty steed, Bobbo the Horse Great. Obviously, Boromir had named it himself, and was very, very stupid.

He thought in his drunken stupor of the events that had brought him to where he was....

_Boromir sat at the table in Minas Tirith with his father, Denethor, and brother, Faramir. Faramir ate neatly, while Boromir and Denethor slurped disgustingly at their dinners._

"Faramir, why are you such a pussy?" asked Denethor. "Why can't you be more courageous, like your brother?"

"But Dad," protested Faramir. "I killed seventy-six orcs just this morning and solved five major disputes among our peasants! Then I balanced the national budget, and worked out the kinks in the army so it would be 5 more cost-efficient, and 10 more combat-effective, while allowing each soldier to be paid 20 more and receive a dental plan!"

"Big whoop," grumbled Denethor unappreciatively.

Boromir farted.

"Good job, son!" cheered Denethor in response. "Here's some money!"

Faramir fought to hold back tears.

"Anyway," Faramir managed to say a few minutes later. "We got a letter from the elves today. They want us to send a high-ranking representative to a meeting of some sort. It sounds important. I'll be leaving sometime tomorrow morning."

"You can't go, Faramir," said Denethor. "This sort of thing calls for a real man! Besides, knowing those elves and how they like to go around pulling each others' dicks, you'd get lost in the crowd."

Faramir stared at Denethor, unable to comprehend his father's stupidity.

"Boromir, you're leaving for Rivendell tomorrow," said Denethor.

"Dad, Boromir is a drunken retard, and he can barely even dress himself!" complained Faramir.

"Shut up!" yelled Boromir, jumping up and knocking over the table. Faramir's big words had confused and angered him. Wine and various meats spilled across the floor.

"That's my boy!" smiled Denethor. "Have some more money!"

'Dad sure is a smart man,' thought Boromir. 'But I think Faramir's a faggot.'

Just then, he lost control of his horse, and it ended up wrapped around a tree.

"Bugger," said Boromir, getting up to walk the rest of the way.

------

Legolas was also headed to Rivendell, riding his not-off-white horse, which was not a not-virgin horse (at least not specifically), and not wearing a cloak that shimmied and sparkled as he moved. You see, this was not Animated Legolas. This was the real thing. Or as real as a fictional character can conceivably get.

He too had a spiffy flashback about how he came to be traveling....

_You see, elves are in relatively high demand, even drunkard elves from places like Mirkwood. Lothlorien and Rivendell elves, along with any other elf tribes that were out there (let's face it—who the hell knows how many there even are?) tended to not respond to any letters asking for their presence at trivial events, since they felt it was beneath them._

In contrast, Mirkwood elves were entirely willing to, for the right price. Seeing as they were drunks, and spent most of their time partying, they never had much money. So what was a Mirkwood elf to do when he wanted to go to a movie or buy a video game? Well, he could go down to Letter Recieval, and draw a message out of a hat. Usually it was something like attending an eight-year-old's birthday party, or appearing in a commercial for a used car lot. Sometimes it was something a little less pleasant, like making a pimply fangirl's dreams come true. But, of course, the discerning elf could always put a bag over her head, and then it wasn't so bad.

So, in any case, the Mirkwood elves tended to make about $500 per appearance, and were generally doing pretty well.

The unfortunate side-effect of all this, though, was that any request that came in had to be put in a hat, and the elves who worked down at Letter Recieval for royalties tended to set aside the particularly nasty ones for other elves they didn't like, and gave the really nice ones to their friends and family, or just people they thought it would be good to have leverage on.

With that said, it will make sense that even Legolas, a prince, was completely broke, and that, despite his severe dyslexia, he decided to take the chance and try to get a job. After all, Metal Gear Solid 3 was coming out in the foreseeable future, and there was no way in hell he was going to miss that.

It had been a slow day, and Duranor was very bored. He hadn't given out many jobs at all, and wouldn't be receiving much royalty money for all the hours he'd spent sitting around the office all day. He saw Legolas approaching. Legolas was such a spaz, he thought.

Well, he did have one letter he'd been sure he wouldn't be able to shove off on anybody. It seemed to imply that anyone who took it would end up going on a horrific quest for little or no monetary reward. But since that illiterate moron had shown up, maybe he would at least be able to get the thing out of his files.

'Hell,' he thought. 'I'll even have a little fun while I'm at it.'

He opened his desk drawer and pulled out one of the spare hats that were to be used if the primary one broke down or something. Not that hats ever break down, but that's just how bureaucracies think. He took out his yellow highlighter, and wrote in big words on the side: 'Crappy Jobs for Illiterate Morons I Don't Like.' He then took the normal hat from its normal perch on his desk, and hid it in the drawer along with all the letters it held. He replaced it with the new hat, in which he placed only the letter from Rivendell.

"Hey," said Legolas, grinning as he entered the room. "Got any jobs today?"

"We've always got jobs," sighed Duranor. "Go ahead, pull one out of the hat."

"Wow," said Legolas. "There's only one left!"

"Well, aren't you the lucky one," replied Duranor, as he struggled to keep a straight face.

Legolas pulled the letter out, but started to peer at the writing on the hat.

"Bjso f.. ffff...uhmmm...." tried Legolas.

"Don't read the hat," said Duranor, not quite keeping the straight face.

Legolas lifted the already-opened tab of the envelope, and pulled the sheet of parchment out.

"Reda....uhm...veles?" attempted Legolas pathetically. Duranor rolled his eyes and took the letter from him.

"Basically, some people from Rivendell want you to go to some meeting, and then go on a camping trip with them," lied Duranor. "Do you accept?"

"Uhh...sure," said Legolas.

"Well, then, sign here," said Duranor, pushing a contract across the desk at him. "By signing this, you are agreeing to fulfill the obligations specified in the letter. 10 of anything you make comes back to Letter Recieval, and then half of that comes to me."

",I Alogle,s" stammered Legolas, trying to read the contract.

"Don't read the contract," said Duranor, his eye twitching from the sheer effort of not laughing.

Legolas put his thumbprint on the contract.

"Okay, then, let me write you up some directions," started Duranor. "Oh...wait..."

He pulled a small stone that was pointed at one end out of his desk, and fiddled with it in a way Legolas did not quite understand.

"Just hold it in the palm of your hand, and the pointed end will point to where the job is," said Duranor. "Just follow that direction, and you'll get there."

Legolas bounded excitedly out the door, the stone in one hand. Duranor burst out laughing as soon as he was gone.

------

"How did that even work?!" complained Celestina. "How could Legolas remember all that if he didn't see half of it? And if he did see all of it, why would he take the job anyway?"

"Oh, yeah," said Spoofmaster sarcastically. "Look at little Miss Continuity here."

"I hate yoooou!" wailed Mort, throwing beans at Spoofmaster.

Aragorn sat in a dark, dank corner, staring at the statue that held a slab with Narsil on it. Around the statue, neon signs proclaimed in various languages that it should not be touched, and that violators would be brutally beaten.

Boromir staggered into the little elfy-gazebo-chapel thing, and proceeded to pick up Narsil and use it to pick his teeth.

"Don't do that!" yelled Aragorn, getting up.

"Why not?" said Boromir, just before four elves with clubs came up from behind him and began beating the living shit out of him. Narsil clattered on the floor as the guards dragged Boromir away.

Aragorn respectfully put the sword back where it had been, and muttered some irrelevant phrases in Elvish. Arwen came in and placed her hand on his arm, smiling. This was really just her being polite and not feeling well and wanting something to lean on, but Aragorn seemed to feel it was a declaration of love.

"I love you!" he told her.

"That's so kind, sir," said Arwen, coughing delicately. "Here, take my necklace."

"Thank you," said Aragorn. "When I get back from this quest, let's go out on a date or something."

"That would be very nice," said Arwen, quaking a little and looking polite.

Gimli sat with the other smelly dwarves, and observed all the others at the meeting. There seemed to be a very short person with no shoes and bad foot hygiene who was rather fetching in the dress she was wearing (Gimli, of course, assumed that anyone wearing a dress must be female), a very confused-looking elf, a creepy old guy with a stick, a guy who looked like the heroic type, and another who looked like some sort of brain-dead jock who'd recently lost a fight. Another elf named Elrond sat in the corner, looking moody.

In the center of the circle, there was a very attractive-looking brazier on a pedestal. Gimli hoped that they wouldn't notice it, so he could make off with it after the meeting ended.

Legolas was very confused, but he figured he'd probably just go camping with these weirdos and get some money, and then it would be Snake Eater time for him. So, he just sat quietly, and tried not to attract too much attention.

Frodo felt deeply embarrassed, but he had worn the dress in fear of what Gandalf would do to him if he didn't. Gandalf had been acting a lot more crazy than usual as of late.

Elrond wondered why Frodo was wearing a dress.

After seeing Frodo, Boromir was sure Denethor had been right about the elves. However, being the responsible yet badass guy he thought he was, he kept his mouth shut and tried to look important.

Aragorn felt clean and therefore upset.

Gandalf was amused that Frodo had actually worn the dress. Stupid Frodo. He was such a little bitch.

Elrond got up and addressed the group.

"What you see before you is the One Bra," stated Elrond. "It's very bad, and I don't like it. What are you going to do about it?"

"Well, it was kind of the plan to take it to Sauron's basement and burn holes through it," suggested Frodo.

"That is a very good plan indeed," said Elrond. "However, Sauron and all his orcs and horny flying monkeys are out looking for it, and you hobbits seem too weak and effeminate to do this on your own. Therefore, I shall appoint you a fellowship. You, you, you, you, and you."

Elrond pointed at Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, Gandalf, and Boromir.

"Oh, and you three, too," said Elrond, looking at the other hobbits, who were hiding under a cardboard box marked "The Orange." "I'm sick of all of you being in my house. Besides, there's a horrible war coming on, and us cowardly elves need to get our asses on some boats and out of this place."

Gimli looked like he was about to object.

"Oh," said Elrond. "One more thing. All of you dwarves need to get out of here. Your ugliness is quite alarming. All of you that I chose are now the Fellowship of the Bra. Get to it!"

------

Bilbo and Frodo met in a cool-looking gazebo thing later that night.

"I know all about horrific quests," said Bilbo. "Why, when I was your age, I used to hang out with all these dwarves. We got high, and then I killed five hundred goblins."

"That never happened," complained Frodo. "You went and you stole some stuff!"

"Well, anyway, I'm going to give you my gear, because it's so much better than yours," said Bilbo. "Here's my old beating stick, Sting."

"That's a sword, Bilbo, a sword."

"It turns green when there's hot chicks around," grinned Bilbo.

"Bilbo, maybe if you hadn't spent the last few decades destroying your brain with substances, you would remember that it turns blue around orcs," sighed Frodo.

"I thought they were called goblins," said Bilbo.

"They were, but now everyone has switched over to calling them orcs for some reason," explained Frodo.

"Oh, okay," said Bilbo. "Well, here's my shiny shirt. It's great for getting chicks!"

"Whatever," said Frodo, taking Bilbo's "shiny shirt," otherwise known as mithril armor with a value roughly equivalent to that of the entire Shire.

"Oh, do you have the Bra?" asked Bilbo.

Frodo nodded, and drew it out of his pocket. Bilbo immediately snatched it and stuck his tongue out at Frodo.

"Come on, Bilbo, give it back!" whined Frodo, reaching for the Bra.

Bilbo snapped it against Frodo's ass and laughed.

"Hey!" protested Frodo. Bilbo giggled, stretched it between his outspread arms, and let go of one end so the little hooks smacked Frodo in the face.

"You're too slo-ow! You're too slo-ow!" chanted Bilbo gleefully.

"Please!" cried Frodo. "I need it!"

"For your blossoming bosoms?" chided Bilbo. Frodo snatched at the Bra and missed, and Bilbo squeezed Frodo's pecs. Frodo slapped his hands and dove for Bilbo. Bilbo easily dodged him, and Frodo wound up on the floor on his hands and knees. Bilbo quickly spun around, and kicked Frodo squarely on the ass.

Frodo went down on his stomach, but tripped Bilbo. He then staggered to his feet as fast as he could manage and latched his hands onto the Bra. The two hobbits tugged it back and forth for a few seconds, before Bilbo lowered his face and gave the fabric a long, hearty lick.

"You don't want it now!" taunted Bilbo. Frodo punched him in the face, breaking his nose.

"Oh Eruuuu!" screeched Bilbo, blood streaming down his face. Frodo gave the Bra one last tug to take it out of his uncle's hands, and tucked it safely away in his pocket. He then kicked Bilbo in the gut as hard as he could, causing him to double over in pain, and ran out the door.

------

The next morning, the Fellowship stood outside, finishing the last of their packing.

With a whoosh and a bang, Bill the Pony materialized. A perfect sphere of space around him was burned, but he didn't seem to be bothered by it. A letter came unstuck from his little pony-type pack, and fluttered over to Sam.

"'Hello Sam and other peoples,'" read the chubby hobbit. "'You forgot this in Bree. His name is Bill, and you'd damn well better not let it happen again. Signed Tud Russell of Time Squad.' Huh."

Concealed high atop a nearby hill the Comical Donkey looked down at the group. The pony had made its way to them despite the Master's best efforts. Things were not going as planned but the Comical Donkey knew that the Master's revenge on MysticButtCrystal was more important than anything else. Hell, that's why he existed in the first place. The Comical Donkey lost his balance and rolled down the hill and into some mud comically.

"Who or what is this 'Master'" thought MysticButtCrystal

Like all his other occurrences the parts concerning the Comical Donkey just materialized on the screen of their own accord and were impervious to the mighty backspace key.

Wow, what a long chapter. Almost epic, wouldn't you say?


	8. Horny Horny Monkeys MB

From now on, new chapters will be posted Saturday afternoons. It just makes more sense schedule wise.

Disclaimer: Using several experiments involving rats, scientists have linked this story to cancer.

Aragorn took point as the group moved along. Gandalf walked behind him to back him up with the magics if they ran into anything, and Gimli came behind them. The hobbits stayed mostly clumped together with Bill near them, about fifteen yards back, generally making crude jokes, and playing obnoxious road trip games. Legolas held back a little bit farther because he didn't really know what the hell was going on. He just hoped this Mordor place wasn't too far away, and he could collect his pay and leave soon. Boromir walked behind him, ready to defend the group if something came at them from behind.

They traveled as such for weeks, taking breaks only when they came across bars, brothels, or interesting things like, say, "The World's Largest Ball of Twine" or "Larry's Gator Farm." ****

At night they'd pick out small, secluded clearings to set up the tents that Aragorn had "borrowed" from Rivendell. There they would lie about the size of fishes they had caught earlier on in their lives and tell ghost stories. Gandalf put a ban on the ghost stories after a while, though, after he found out it gave Frodo nightmares.After all, no one wanted the little bitch crawling into their sleeping bag in the middle of the night. That was just creepy, way creepier than any ghost story, and nowhere near as wholesome.

Hell, who are we kidding, it wasn't wholesome at all, especially not when Frodo got pleasant dreams and started humping your leg like a dog. ****

Eventually, though, they came to a crossroads and were forced to make a decision.

Gimli felt that they should go through the mountains by way of Moria, where, as he said, the "red dwarves" would give them "red meat and red wine."

Gandalf sincerely hoped that Gimli meant that the dwarves were somehow Communist, because if he meant it the other way, he was obviously some sort of dwarf abomination.Then he realized that Gimli had been cursed with a bad Russian bootleg dub, and cured him of it, after which he started to make some more sense.

Gimli still argued that they should go through Moria, because it was "kickass" and his relatives were "really cool and stuff."****

Gandalf didn't care enough to try to do anything about Gimli's OOC Gen X-er talk, but he was of the opinion that they should go over Caradhras, since everybody knew that dwarves were stinky, and besides, he thought there were horrible monsters in Moria.

The hobbits didn't really give a crap about the whole thing, since the conversation took place during afternoon chow. Mouths that were talking were mouths that were not eating, so the hobbits were able to eat more while everyone else yapped.

Aragorn was in favor of going over the mountain, since he wasn't really the indoor type. Besides, everyone knew that dwarves were stinky, and Aragorn was, in fact, fairly hypocritical on that subject. He was not as disgusting as he had been, but the few weeks in the field had given him enough of a layer of dirt to look cool without actually being gross.

Legolas didn't really care about any of it. He was cranky from withdrawal, since they hadn't visited a bar in days, and at home he had always been accustomed to getting drunk off his ass at least five nights a week. Having an immortal elven liver did have its perks. ****

Boromir wanted to go through Moria, because he liked dwarves. They were shorter than him, and he had self esteem issues. ****

In the end, though, they decided to put the question to Frodo, since he was supposedly their leader. Frodo decided to go along with Aragorn, since Aragorn and Gandalf seemed to be the only people present who had any clue as to what the hell they were doing, and he was pretty sure that without their help, he would be up shit creek without a paddle, so better not to make them pissy.****

And so, the Fellowship began the arduous trek up Caradhras, known as Bitchy Bitch the Mountain to men.

A few days later, while most of the Fellowship was sitting on their asses not doing anything (they tended to do this from time to time), Boromir was teaching the hobbits how to use the weapons that Aragorn had stolen from Rivendell's armory for them. Boromir didn't do this so much because he thought it would be good for the hobbits. The whole event was really more about him swinging his sword around and trying to look cool. After a half hour of training, the hobbits jumped him when he wasn't paying attention and thoroughly kicked his ass, andlaughed at his pain.

"What the hell is that?!" yelled Legolas, who had been sitting toward the side of the camp. He pointed skyward, to a large mass of somethings moving quickly in their direction. Frodo looked up, and gave a cry of dismay—those were horny bisexual winged monkeys!

On they came, looking very horny and clutching boxes of Trojan condoms marked "Hobbit's Pleasure." ****

"This story is getting unbearably gay," said Spoofmaster.

"Well, I'm the one who has to come up with the jokes," complained MysticButtCrystal. "It's not my fault I'm totally immature! Besides, it's just a little bit here and there."

Spoofmaster sighed, and looked over at Mort, who was staring into space with wide, blank eyes and gripping the beans he had been given so tightly that they were turning to mush. Celestina, also on the couch, looked at him worriedly.

"I'm beginning to wonder if Mort's going to pull out of it," said Spoofmaster. "I think we fucked him up pretty bad."

"You fucked him up pretty bad," corrected MysticButtCrystal. "You should probably just give him his corn back before he buries you in the yard."

"Well, you seem to be fucking the story up pretty bad!" reprimanded Spoofmaster. "What with 'Hobbit's Pleasure!'" She sneered at him, showing her displeasure.

"Well, fine, then," said MysticButtCrystal. "If you think those jokes were in bad taste, just wait until the next ones! I'll show you!"

Spoofmaster shook her head, and retrieved the steamin' bowl from under the sink. She handed it back to Mort, who began scarfingthe corn down with a sort of desperation.

"You put it under the sink with all those chemicals?!" asked MysticButtCrystal incredulously. "What kind of monster are you?!"

"Eh, he doesn't mind," said Spoofmaster. ****

The group didn't get away fast enough, and the monkeys descended on them and made them their bitches, over, and over, and over. There must have been five hundred monkeys there, and every single one had his way with each member of the Fellowship at least three times, especially Bill the pony. Horny monkeys always have a thing for ponies. They're like twelve-year-old girls in that way. Frodo squealed with pleasure. They and the monkeys spent a quiet day making love and enjoying each others' company. ****

When they were done, the monkeys carried them off to Mordor, where they were butt-raped by all the monkeys again, then all the orcs, and then the monkeys again. And then by the monkeys one more time. Damn, those sure were horny monkeys! ****

Then they were executed, and their bodies were raped by the orcs. Then by the monkeys. Then by Sauron, who got his Bra back and used its powers to transport all the denizens of Middle Earth to Mordor, and he and his orcs and monkeys butt-raped them until the end of time. ****

_THE END?_

Oh, yes, and the Comical Donkey pooped. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. ****

"Shit," said Spoofmaster. "You weren't kidding."

"Damn straight I wasn't," bragged MysticButtCrystal. "That's what you get for bitching."

"That was really, really gay," said Spoofmaster numbly. "Do you have something you're trying to tell me?"

"Yes," said MysticButtCrystal. "My brows were as high as they go before that little ordeal, so just quit your whining, and if I put in another bad joke, just try to bite your tongue, unless it was something really freaking bad."

Celestina scooted away from Mort, since bits of corn were flying everywhere. ****

Before the monkeys could see them, the Fellowship members dove under various rocks and shrubs, and were well hidden from the monkeys, because the monkeys were so horny that they couldn't think straight enough to look for them with any competence. Unfortunately for the Comical Donkey, he was in plain view at the time and was carried off in their swarm. ****

When the monkeys had gone and were out of sight, the Fellowship crawled out of their hiding places, scratched and with their hair full of twigs. Actually, only Pippin had his hair full of twigs. He had put them there. Legolas had crawled straight into a patch of poison ivy when he hid, and was very unhappy. ****

"Shit, we just narrowly avoided what would have been the most horrific sexual experiences of our lives!" exclaimed Aragorn. "Who knows how many times...."

"Well, we should press on, and try to get the rest of the way up Caradhras by nightfall," said Gandalf. Everyone brushed themselves off and followed him as he began up the mountain once more. Legolas was very itchy, and he hoped he would be getting paid a lot for this.

The wind whistled through the gap between Caradhras and the neighboring mountain. Snow and driving rain pelted down on the Fellowship.

"There is a fell voice on the wind!" cried Legolas.

"What the hell is a 'fell voice'?!" demanded Gimli, hitting Legolas in the shin with the handle of his axe. ****

"Ohhhh..." said Legolas, going down. He wondered why these people had hired an elf when they didn't want anything to do with him. ****

Frodo shivered and looked up at the others, snot icicles hanging out his nose. ****

"This sucks," said Aragorn. "I think we're going to have to go to that stinky dwarf place after all."

Gandalf sighed and turned dramatically to Frodo, who had suddenly succumbed to hypothermia and was lying on the ground. ****

"Oh, shit!" said Gandalf. "That can't be good!"

"Oh no, however will we get him down the mountain?" asked Aragorn, tightening his bootlaces. Sam threw an empty beer bottle at him, effectively taking Aragorn's mind off of his old fashioned method of transporting Frodo. ****

Gandalf shook his head, and picked up Frodo, who wasn't as awkward to carry as you'd think, what with having frozen solid. He signaled for the rest of the group to follow him, and they began the trek back down.

"Wow, I'm sure glad the trip back down was mind numbingly boring," commented Pippin to Merry.

"Why's that?" asked Merry.

"Well, because it made the authors skip it, so we didn't have to deal with it," explained Pippin. "If it had been Tolkien instead of these two, he probably would've devoted three chapters to it, then another five to a mealtime he would have written in."

Merry just shook his head. His idiot cousin was obviously high again. ****

Frodo had thawed out, and was sniffling to himself about being so cold. Everyone else except Sam ignored him and stood around, staring at the gate into Moria.

Sam was standing a distance away, talking to Bill the pony.

"I know we're not supposed to leave you, Bill," said Sam tearfully, pulling off the pony's pack and halter. "But I don't think it's good to take you in a mine. You might break your leg or something."

With a last sigh, Sam turned Bill loose.

"Ahahahahaha'll mihihiss yoou," said Bill mournfully.

Actually, Bill didn't say anything. It was just that damn stagehand with the peanut butter again. ****

"How can you have stagehands?!" complained Celestina. "This is a written fanfiction!"

MysticButtCrystal shot her in the face with a Super Soaker. ****

"Hey, Legolas, why don't you read this for us?" asked Gimli innocently, looking up at the Elvish words written on the gate. "You're an elf."

"Ohhh..." worried Legolas, but he stepped up to try his best at it. "Uhmmm...Spkae? Rifend...."

"Aww, damnit!" yelled Gimli. "They gave us a defective elf!"

Legolas clobbered Gimli with his bow, knocking him unconscious, and went off to sulk.

"It says 'Speak, friend, and you may enter," said Gandalf. He then proceeded to shout various things at it, which did absolutely nothing. ****

They all took turns screaming at the door, except for Frodo, who was whining, Gimli, who was unconscious, and Legolas, who didn't want to talk to anyone, let alone some smartass door. ****

Finally, it was Pippin's turn, and he strode confidently to the door.

"Open sesame!" he cried, raising his arms dramatically, as the door creaked open in a somber and impressive way. The Fellowship trudged in, Frodo still sniffling, Legolas still sulking, and Gimli being dragged by Boromir. ****

"What sense does that make?!" demanded Merry, walking close to Pippin.

"This is just that kind of fanfic," explained Pippin perfectly reasonably. Merry was more sure than ever that Pippin would have to be put in a home. Sensing this, Pippin became more sure than ever that he would have to win the video game championship in Los Angeles to prove he didn't need to be put in a home. Cali-FORN-ia!

Just then, they realized that they were in a large room surrounded by...SKELETONS OH NO!! And the skeletons had...oh, it was terrible.... ****

SKULLS!!!!!!! Skulls of unquestionable skullness, skulls that had risen beyond being the mere heads of dead smelly dwarves and taken on a special skullish sheen and beauty, the like of which none of the Fellowship had ever seen in their travels. They glistened skullfully and were a sight to behold for even the most jaded of travelers. Their skullish powers of terror shook the Fellowship to the core, and they turned to dash back out the door.

BUT OH NO!! There was an octopus!

"Octopus! Oh, shit, it has tentacles!" yelled Pippin.

"So?" asked Boromir.

"Haven't you ever seen a Japanese cartoon?!" cried Pippin. "Tentacles are bad news!" ****

Merry had had enough, and pushed Pippin into the octopus lake. The octopus promptly picked him up and began wrapping its tentacles around him.

"Noooooooo!" yelled Pippin.

"Wait..." said Gandalf thoughtfully. "How can there be an octopus? That's a freshwater lake, and it's too small to support the sheer quantity of fish it would need to eat. Additionally, how would there be enough octopi in there to reproduce and maintain the octopus population? Furthermore, how did octopi get in the lake in the first place?"

The octopus was angered at Gandalf's logic. It knew better than anybody that it had no business existing. It threw back their hobbit in disgust, and chased them into the mine.

"Oh no!" bellowed Gimli, who had come to just in time to be chased in by the octopus. "Skulls!"

The skulls laughed gleefully in a skullish way at the weak, skullenly-inferior dwarf. To think they had once been part of something so pointless! Now their skull beauty had been purified by the loss of flesh, and they, the glistening skull-lords would rule the world! ****


	9. Chapter 9

"No one's going to get that hut thing," said MysticButtCrytal.

"Can I abbreviate your name at all?" asked Spoofmaster. "It's really annoying, having to say it."

"Fine," said MBC. "But it has to be typed in full in the story."

"I don't want to write right now."

"Neither do I. It's getting harder and harder to come up with interesting things to do to the characters."

"I wish I could do something right now," sighed Spoofmaster. "I'm just not sure what."

"We could watch Brazil."

"Too depressing. How about Big Fish?"

"Idiot." ****

"Urgh. Well...I don't know."

"Maybe we could watch some of that Captain Planet I taped," suggested MBC.

"It's too stupid," protested his sister. "All those idiot kids, and that one South American buttmonkey—it's just too depressing." ****

"How is Captain Planet depressing?!"

"Well, there's this unattainable perfection the Planeteers seem to keep trying for, and that monkey's face looks like a fat man's ass." ****

"The monkey looks stupid, but I wouldn't go comparing his face to a large man's rear," said MBC, leaning back in his chair.

"I would. I did."

"You just hate that monkey for no reason. Seriously, he's not even in half the episodes!"

"I know," muttered Spoofmaster. "And I hate Bronx, too."

"What did Bronx ever do to you? Gargoyles had way more annoying characters than him. Hell, he wasn't even a character! How can you hate him?"

"He's just obnoxious."

"How's he obnoxious? He's like a dog or something. You like dogs."

"He's not furry, he gets in the way, and he makes stupid noises."

"Kind of like your dog?" jeered MBC. "At least Bronx doesn't pee on his own feet."

"Hey, Yoshi has fur."

"I said kind of, not exactly. Why did you even buy that dog? She's so inbred she can barely stand up, and she seems to have a tendency to try to bite everyone she meets."

"She was so cute when she was little...."

"Yes, and filthy and diseased, too. Every time she shat it was diarrhea, and it got all over her. That dog is nasty." ****

"Yea, but she's smarter than Bronx," said Spoofmaster.

"...No, she's not. So why again don't you want to watch Captain Planet?"

"Remember what I said about the buttmonkey and his monkey that looked like a butt?"

"Maybe he'll have to use his heart power to make you lighten up."

"HUT!!" shouted Spoofmaster unexpectedly.

"It doesn't even sound like he says 'hut,'" protested her brother. "If anything, it sounds like he says 'hurt.' You and Gollumrox just have wax in your ears." ****

"I hate that monkey."

"WHY do you hate the mon—okay, I know, he looks like a butt. But it's not even about the monkey! It's just about a bunch of idealistic morons out on a quest to do something or other under the iron fist of Whoopie Goldberg! Besides, Blight has a robot that's played by Tim Curry! You love Tim Curry!" ****

"Not as a gay computer." ****

"Then why'd you like him in Tales from a Parallel Universe?" asked MBC. "He was a computer-generated image of a poet that tried to inseminate Stanley Tweedle!"

"At least he recited poetry then," said Spoofmaster. "And he wasn't represented by a screen with a floating silver head on it."

"It's a floating green head, and it's not even a head. It's the outline of one. And sometimes it had Malcolm McDowell! What children's series about saving the planet would be complete without a porn star?"

"You're just making my point for me."

"Why do you hate everything?" wondered MBC. "All I do is try to get you to watch some old cartoons no one likes, and then you start going around hating stuff."

"I hate jodhpurs too."

"Why would you hate riding pants?!"

"I just...well, I see them, and then I just get this urge to go and rip the big bulging sides off. People who wear them are stupid."

"Wow, that's a really educated statement," smirked MBC.

"I just hate them, that's all."

"I bet you go around the schoollike, 'I hate you because you smell funny,' or 'I hate you because your skin's a different color,' or 'I hate you because you're there.'"

"I'm not racist," protested Spoofmaster. "I just hate jodhpurs and various animated animals."

"Why?!"

"Things like Raja piss me off."

"The tiger from Aladdin?"

"Yea. It makes dog noises." ****

"It also cuddles up against a pretty girl it would probably eat in real life, but that doesn't seem to bother you!"

"Well, yea, it does bother me," admitted Spoofmaster. "But not as much as the dog noises. Tigers should not make dog noises."

"Next you're going to tell me you hate Abu, and that his face looks like a butt, and that his little hat is the manifestation of Satan." ****

"I don't hate Abu, just his voice. But I _do_ hate Scooby Doo."

"I hate Scooby Doo too."

"Do you hate Dumbo?"

"No!"

"Good. Neither do I. I just always thought it was silly."

"What's silly about Dumbo?"

Spoofmaster made some noises that suggested she thought her brother was crazy.

"What?" asked MBC. "He's just an elephant. We've seen elephants at the zoo, and you were never like 'You're silly!' then!"

"He flies!"

"He has big ears," explained MBC, making flapping motions with his hands near his head.

"No," said Spoofmaster. "Just no."

"I honestly don't see what's so hard to comprehend. The elephant has big ears, and he flaps them, and he flies. You're just being stupid."

"I wish we still had our Disney tapes."

"Yeah, well Mom stole them, because she's evil. She was all like, 'You're eighteen years old! You shouldn't be watching old Disney movies!', and I was like, 'But I like my Disney movies! Leave them be!' and she was like, 'No, I'm taking them away forever and giving them away to small ugly children who will get their germs all over them.' She's mean." ****

"For crying out loud, man, you were in Marine Corps boot camp!"

"That doesn't mean I can't like old Disney movies!"

"...I really hate jodhpurs," said Spoofmaster. ****

"You're stupid. Hey, wait, what's that crap on the computer screen?"

Both authors leaned in to look, and saw their entire conversation written in the Word document they'd had open for writing the story. ****

"How'd that happen?" wondered MysticButtCrystal.

"I dunno," said Spoofmaster, trying and failing to delete it. "Whatever happened, it's stuck there."

"It must be that Master guy again. Maybe he's mad about losing his donkey to some horny monkeys. Oh well. The story's just a bunch of random crap anyway. We'll just post this up as chapter 9. No one will notice."

Sorry we're a day late, but MBC forgot to put this up. Let's all laugh at his stupid.


	10. The Mines of LazyAss Shit

I get the feeling that we will soon be stabbed in our sleep for not including Mort in every other paragraph in our LORD OF THE RINGS spoof!

You people are scary.

The Fellowship soon grew tired of being frightened by the skulls and moved on into other areas of Moria.

'Hey! Pay attention to us!' thought the lead skull as they left. 'We're the skulls! You can't ignore us! We're the whole reason this place is even slightly interesting!'

But no one ever payed attention to the skulls again, except for the orcs who later passed through. Those who would survive the dramatic fight sequences to come boiled the skulls to make soup. The orcs afterwards cut off the tops of the now nutrient-free husks of the skulls, and shat in them. Not for any real reason, just to be jerks. It was a tragic day indeed. Those skulls had been a beacon of light in a dark world of filthy disappointment.

"How are we going to find our way through this dumbass mine?" complained Boromir. "The stupid dwarves made too many stupid passages in their stupid mine. This is stupid."

"Just follow your nose!" sang Toucan Sam, as he swooped by over their heads. Legolas, still in a foul mood, drew his bow and shot Toucan Sam in the head. The stricken mascot plummeted into the abyss he had been flying over, and Legolas gave a smug smile.

"You can't just keep summoning random characters and then killing them to get a cheap laugh," complained Mort. "It's just bad writing."

"How do you think you came into this?" asked Spoofmaster. "We just didn't kill you...yet."

"What gives you the right?!" demanded Celestina.

"Because I'm the Keyblade Master, stupid!" replied MysticButtCrystal, tapping her on the head with the Keyblade.

"If that is all, may we be moving on now?" asked Gandalf testily.

"You heard them too?" questioned Pippin.

"Heard who?" asked Gandalf.

"The authors and what I can only assume are their love slaves," said Pippin.

"What the hell are you talking about?" wondered Gandalf. "I was referring to the whole thing that just happened with the oddly colored bird!"

"So were they," replied Pippin.

Merry kicked Pippin in the shin.

'Stupid insane Pippin,' thought Merry. 'Always hearing those voices in his head.'

'Why won't anyone believe me?' thought Pippin. 'Cali-FORN-ia!'

Several hours later, they were at an odd plateau. So far they had followed Gimli, and he said they were about halfway through. Besides, the hobbits were a little upset at missing three of the four breakfasts they felt they were entitled to. Not that anyone actually knew what time of day it was, but the hobbits felt that without any way to tell the time, they should go on a permanent breakfast for safety's sake.

When the Fellowship rested, Frodo sat off to the side away from the others, because 1) he felt like an outsider, 2) he wanted time to think, and 3) he wanted attention. Legolas also sat alone, away from even Frodo, but that was because he was still pissed off. Killing Toucan Sam hadn't really been very fulfilling, even with Sam's rag doll physics.

Frodo gazed over the edge of the precipice, staring at the rocks below and pondering how much people might or might not care if he just jumped. He had finally decided that it wouldn't be worth the trouble because he wouldn't be there to enjoy the attention, when something below caught his eye.

Gollum climbed slowly and quietly. Soon he would kill the dumbass filthy hobbitses and piss on their corpses. Then he and the precious could go back home and...cuddle.

"Is that Gollum?" asked Gandalf, coming up beside Frodo and looking down.

"Mmyep," said Frodo, selecting a stone the size of his fist and squinting down at Gollum. He took careful aim, and let go. The stone impacted solidly on Gollum's face, stunning him, and causing him to let go of his handholds.

"Oh shitses!" cried Gollum, plummeting back down to the bottom.

"Let's get moving before the filthy little bastard gets back up," suggested Gandalf. So the Fellowship packed up their stuff and moved on through more boring and repetitive tunnels. They noticed that many of the tunnels were exactly alike, but they just chocked that up to the fact that this chapter was on a very strict deadline and the programmers had only had time to design a few rooms.

"What programmers?!" cried a dismayed Mort.

"Look, if you and Celestina don't shut up, we are going to kill you!" threatened MysticButtCrystal. "We killed Mr. Peabody and Toucan Sam! We're on the edge here, guys!"

Eventually the Fellowship came to a room that did not look like all the other rooms they had been to. It was kind of big, and contained many dwarf skeletons, including their....

SKULLS!! Oh, we had thought that the skull beauty was gone from the world at the loss of the previous skulls, but here was a new supply! It was a fountain of pearly skull perfection, emanating from their various empty sockets and blank, wondrous skull foreheads. They were the most beautiful skulls to ever exist, each shining with an inner skull light and beauty, as—

Pippin very deliberately started removing the skulls from the bodies of the dwarves.

"What are you doing?!" wailed Gimli. "These were my buds! Now who will I go drinking with?!"

Gimli cried, tears and snot running down his face and into his beard. Legolas groaned in disgust, but his mood was slightly lifted by the fact that the dwarf was unhappy.

Pippin finished gathering the skulls, which gleamed skullfully with a wonder of their own as he cradled them in his arms. He put them in one of the trash bags the Fellowship had brought to carry things in, disrespecting them slightly, but it was obvious that he appreciated their skullish sheen and wanting to take them with him. The skulls clattered in the bag, a beautiful sound not otherwise possible. Pippin had done well by allowing them to realize their musical talent.

"Hey," said Gandalf, stooping over a book. "I've been reading this book over here, and it looks like all these dwarves were killed by a giant monster. I told you so."

The skulls cheerfully continued to make music beyond that of any living thing, delighting despite how their glorious appearance went hidden. They were—

Pippin dropped the bag down the well in the corner. He had had more than enough of listening to the voices in his head rambling on about skulls.

"What's wrong with you?!" cried Gandalf. "You fool of a Took! You'll attract a giant monster, and then where will we be? Hmm?!"

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't stand to listen to one more second of the skull descriptions," explained Pippin. "That gag got old before the end of the first fanfic they used it in! What is so alluring about skulls, anyway?!"

"The 'authors' again?" asked Frodo.

"You can hear them too?!" asked Pippin.

"No, you're just crazy," said Frodo, shaking his head sadly. "Poor, insane Pippin."

They were interrupted by a banging sound, as the orcs decided that now would be a good time to come in and kill them.

And so various orcs came, and the Fellowship did battle with them.

"Oh, wow, I'm so impressed," said Pippin sarcastically, watching the rest of the Fellowship vaguely do battle.

What?! We described it more than Tolkien ever did!

"Yeah, your retort really fits into the narrative," Pippin continued. "You people are pathetic."

Suddenly, the cave troll that the orcs had brought with them took an interest in Pippin and began trying to eat him. Legolas noticed, and shot it in the eyes, blinding it. It stumbled around, lodged its foot in the well like a simpleton elephant would in a hanging tire, and broke its leg.

"Now who will stab me?!" wailed Frodo. "If no one stabs me, they won't pay attention to me and my shiny shirt! Waah! Waah!"

"You're not allowed to write for Frodo anymore," growled Spoofmaster at MysticButtCrystal.

The Fellowship vaguely finished vaguely doing battle against the orcs, and ran out of the room and into a great hall. More orcs followed them, and eventually cornered them. In a corner. So they were cornered.

They and the orcs just kind of stood there for a few minutes, staring at each other.

"Mr. Peanut is an abomination," said MysticButtCrystal, gazing at his can of peanuts. "He promotes the eating of his own kind."

"Like the singing dancing raisins?" asked Spoofmaster.

"Yea," said MysticButtCrystal. "And look at his face! It, like, shows no remorse!"

Indeed, the picture of Mr. Peanut on the can MysticButtCrystal was pointing to looked fairly malevolent.

"You do realize that you should just write the damn story, right?" asked Mort.

"Oh, yeah," said Spoofmaster.

A deep rumbling permeated the air. The orcs made strange hooting noises and looked around nervously for a few seconds, and then bolted. The Fellowship looked confused, until Gandalf realized what it was.

"Run!" yelled Gandalf. "It's a Ball-rog!"

The Fellowship dashed away as a light filled the entrance they had come through, and the Ball-rog rolled into view. It was a giant flaming dodge ball, with little fiery tendrils.

"Oh shit!" cried Pippin. "Tentacles!"

Tendrils, not tentacles. There's a difference.

"Oh," said Pippin, and he just ran with the others.

They ran out of the hall and into an enormous cavern with stairs going down to a bridge with an exit beyond it. They ran down them, until they came to a place where the stairs had broken and there was a gap. Frodo leapt, fell down, and died. The screen faded to black, showing the title 'Lord of the Undergarments' and gave the options 'Continue' and 'exit.' Meanwhile, Sam's voice could be heard, saying, "Frodo? What happened, Frodo? Frodo, respond! Frodooooooooooo!!"

The room flickered, and then he was back on the stairs.

"I'll use my wizard powers!" said Gandalf, banging his staff on the ground. "Arise, chicken! Chicken arise!"

And with that, the Fellowship levitated down to the bridge.

The Ball-rog bounced down after them, somehow appearing angry. The Fellowship sprinted across the bridge, Gandalf at the rear.

The Ball-rog bounced out onto the bridge behind them, but was so heavy that it just went through the bridge and fell towards its doom. It reached out with all its fiery tendrils, trying to grab onto something, and grasped Gandalf for a moment, pulling him most of the way off the jagged edge of the broken bridge so that he was hanging on for dear life.

"Gandalf!" cried Frodo, turning to run back and help his friend.

"No!" said Aragorn, stopping Frodo. "We must go! It is what he would wish!"

"The hell it is! Save me, you bastards!" yelled Gandalf. "I don't want to die!"

And with that, the Ball-rog's weight caught up to him and pulled him off. The Fellowship turned and ran again, as some orcs shot at them. It wasn't really a threat since the orcs were so crappy, but they ran anyway.

Imagine our horror when we discovered, at 3:00 on a Saturday afternoon, that we had forgotten to write a chapter this week. Then, imagine us sitting at the computer for more than an hour, combating our frustration and lack of an attention span. You've imagined it? Good. Now you know what we went through to get this out to you on time.


	11. L Forest L Prefecture

Meanwhile,Far Far Away, the Comical Donkey was getting very tired of the horny flying monkeys. He had been carried in their swarm for days now, and his butt hurt tremendously from the literal non-stop raping. Yes, that's right, the monkeys didn't even stop to do it. Several would hold his weight while others took turns at his rear, as they moved ever closer to Mordor.

Below, on the ground, a Donkey that was even more comical traveled with a pair of ogres in a carriage, and never had any trouble with horny flying monkeys at all. In-laws, short kings, and bitchy fairy godmothers, yes, but no horny flying monkeys. ****

The members of the Fellowship came out of Moria in a very foul mood. This was not lifted by the giant bowl of Froot Loops that greeted them. It was flanked on the sides by glasses of milk and orange juice, as well as various sausages and toast.

"Part of a complete breakfast!" boomed a disembodied voice. ****

"I toll yoo to follow yur nosth," slurred Zombie Toucan Sam, teetering on the edge of the bowl. "Mustht have braaaains!"

He fell into the cereal, soiling it. ****

"Fucking bird!" yelled Legolas, and he shoved the entire bowl off a cliff, before rounding on the rest of the Fellowship "What the hell kind of camping trip is this?! We go to all these unpleasant places, and get in battles with monsters! And then someone DIES!" ****

"...Camping trip?" asked Frodo incredulously.

"Yes, camping trip!" grumbled Legolas. "That's what I was hired to do, right?"

"No, I'm sorry," said Aragorn. "This is a life-threatening quest to throw a small piece of jewelry into a volcano."

"That doesn't sound right," said Frodo. "I thought we were supposed to get the Cigarettes of Doom and burn holes in this Bra."

"Oh, yeah," said Aragorn. "I forgot, we don't rate good enough as characters to throw a ring into a volcano."****

"_That's_ what we're doing?" asked Boromir.

"Yes, you _were_ at the meeting."

"I wasn't paying attention."

"Look," said Aragorn. "One of our members is dead. Now if we fight the Wraiths, we'll be outnumbered."

"Yeah, sure," said Sam sarcastically. "Because us hobbits are more than capable of going one-on-one with a Ringwraith."

"I feel that the hobbit species is over-represented here," said Boromir.

"So are men," said Gimli. "I don't see any other dwarves around here."

"Probably because we'd all asphyxiatefrom the STENCH," retorted Legolas.

"Look," said Aragorn. "Gandalf was essentially our leader, and now he's splatted. So, I'm going to be the leader from now on."

"Why should you be the leader?!" demanded Boromir. "I'm a badass warrior guy too!"

"No you're not," snapped Sam. "You're a fucking idiot!" ****

"All of you, shut the hell up," demanded Aragorn. "We just lost a friend. Okay, but we've got to keep going, because those orcs are going to find a way through eventually, even though the bridge is broken. So let's just get our asses moving and we can do this bullshit later."

There was a lot of muttering, but no one wanted to object too loudly, because Aragorn was really good at killing people. ****

A few days later, the Fellowship reached the border of Lothlorien. They hadn't talked much along the way, and when they did, it was mostly to nag and complain about each other.

"Oh, great," sighed Aragorn. "I forgot this was here. The elves will go all crazy on us if we try to pass through."

"Don't worry," said Legolas. "I'll just walk at the front of the group, and you can all walk behind me in single file and try not to look aggressive. They'll probably think I'm a local leading you through."

They all did as Legolas said, and for a while, nothing happened. That is, until about an hour later, when around fifty elves in gilly suits popped up out of the foliage around them, training large bows on them. Twenty of them moved and made a circle around Legolas, separating him from the others.

"Oh, shit," groaned Legolas. "We're dead, guys."

"Thanks to you, asshole," replied Boromir.

"Who the hell are you and why are you leading this side show through our forest?" asked Haldir, smoking a large cigar. ****

"Uhm, you see, I'm from around here, and these guys wanted to get through, so I agreed to take them for some money?" tried Legolas.

"Try it again," commanded Haldir. "And you'd better tell the truth this time, or we'll just shoot you."

"All right," sighed Legolas. "I'm Legolas Greenleaf, a prince of Mirkwood, and I'm on a quest with these guys for Elrond, to save the world and stuff."

"And you thought you could just walk straight through to the other side?" snickered Haldir.

"Why not?" asked Legolas.

"Do you honestly think that anyone in Lothlorien dresses or carries themselves like you?" asked Haldir. "You look like poor elven trash."

"I think he is," piped up another one of the elves.

"Yeah," said yet another. "I think he has a mullet."

"No I don't!" cried Legolas, trying to conceal his mullet by scratching his head.

"Didn't he say he was from Mirkwood?" asked one of the elves.

"I heard they fuck their cousins in Mirkwood," said the one next to him.

"Is that true, boy?" asked Haldir. "Do you fuck your cousins?"

Legolas squirmed, and Haldir leaned in toward him.

"Well?" asked Haldir.

"...Only when we're really drunk..." said Legolas in a small voice. ****

"I hear Mirkwood elves get drunk every night," jeered an elf right next to Legolas. "Real drunk."

The elves began to push Legolas around while chanting, "Mirkwood, Mirkwood, we may be related but it feels so good!" Legolas began to cry and curled up into a ball on the ground. ****

"Well," said Haldir after he'd let his soldiers taunt and kick Legolas for a while, "seeing as you're on a quest for Elrond, we'd better get you through. We're going to have to check in with the bosses first, though. Hold still while my men blindfold you and tie your arms."

And with that, the elves took their captives deep into Lothlorien, tied together in a chain.

The Fellowship stood in the clothes that the elves had given them after spraying them with fire hoses to "make them presentable." Aragorn was sad because the layer of grime he had been building up had been taken away from him once again. They stared at Lord Celebron and Lady Galadriel.

"Galadriel is glad to see you!" gushed Galadriel. "Just more people to witness the great power of ACROSS, which has succeeded in its mission to take over L Forest! This land is now ruled by the great Lord Celeborn! All hail Lord Celeborn!"

Celeborn, looking uncomfortable in his cape with its huge squarish shoulders, pulled a cord, causing the trapdoor beneath Galadriel to open up, sending her down a pit. ****

"STOP RIGHT THERE!" boomed the Goddess of Canon.

"Heh?" asked MysticButtCrystal. The story faded away, and was replaced by Mort's cabin, where the authors had been writing.

"Oh, Mom, it was horrible!" wailed Celestina. "They cut across a bunch of stories to kidnap me, and then they made me sit on the couch with a scary man!"

Mort yawned and stretched, draping his arm around Celestina.

"See?" cried Celestina. "And they made me work as a satanic telemarketer, and they butchered numerous cute squirrels. And then they killed Toucan Sam, my one and only friend!" ****

"Toucan Sam's not dead, he's undead," objected Spoofmaster. "And since when do you care about him?"

"We grew up in the same village, and spent our afternoons hiding out in the forest because we were both abused. His mother would fill his rectum with jam and lean umbrellas up against his beak. She stifled his creativity and innate desire to find beautiful fruit cereals. I was kept locked away in a cupboard by the butler because I didn't meet his standards of how a young girl should behave herself. My parents did not do anything against him, because he had used a magic spell on them which made them not notice as part of his scheme to create the world's largest donut! So me and Toucan Sam came together for comfort and protection, and over the years, our love for each other grew. On our shared twelfth birthday, we also shared our first kiss. Unfortunately, a love between a goddess and a cartoon bird cannot be, since it is a crime against nature. So we needed to get a potion to make him into a god, kind of like in Shrek 2, but the local wizard was a money grubbing bastard. To earn the money, Toucan Sam had to go on a voyage across the sea to be in various cameos and fanfics. However, halfway across the ocean, his ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Ripoffson, and I thought him dead for years. That is, until these two killed him for good. Waaaaaah!" ****

Celestina's mother was trying her hardest not to break out laughing. Could her daughter honestly think that that story made even the slightest bit of sense?

"Celestina," said the GoC, stifling a giggle. "When you fabricate stories, you ought to at least try to remember who your audience is. You were never abused by any butler. We don't even _have_ a butler, since omnipotence tends to make them unnecessary."

"I told you, you were under his spell!" whined Celestina.

"She makes a good point there," said Mort. "Maybe you were under a spell. I _did_ see a story on the news about a gigantic donut destroying Albuquerque."

"And what would a moth-eaten, predictable Stephen King character like you know about it?" inquired the GoC. Mort grabbed his shovel and put on his Shooter hat, causing the authors to hide behind their chairs, but the GoC quickly waved her hand, turning him into a chicken.

"Bcawk!" objected Mort, who began pecking at a corncob. ****

"You'd better put him back when you're done," grumbled MysticButtCrystal. "If you don't, we'll end up in someone's steamin' bowl over this, judging from all those Mort-loving reviews."

"Do you think that as Canon Incarnate I would leave him like that?" asked the GoC incredulously.

"Well, then, what is it you're here for?" inquired Spoofmaster. "I take it it wasn't specifically to chickenize my muse."

'Since when did I agree to be your muse?' asked a sign Mort the Chicken was holding up. ****

"Where the hell do animals get those things?" wondered MysticButtCrystal.

"I came here to get my delinquent daughter," said the GoC. "Oh, yeah, and to bring horrible destruction down on her kidnappers."

"It was a self-defense thing," protested MysticButtCrystal. "She was ruining our parody."

"From what I've seen, your parody does a fairly good job of ruining itself," replied the GoC.

"Do you really feel that she didn't deserve something like this?" asked Spoofmaster.

"Well, she did run out on her grounding," admitted the GoC. "And if you hadn't done it, she probably would have cast you into one of her horrible alternate realities."

"So could you just take her and leave?" asked MysticButtCrystal. "Oh yeah, and dechickenize Mort."

"Why not?" agreed the GoC. "This whole thing is giving me a headache, and if she's doing this, who knows who else she's been messing with. I'll have to keep a closer eye on her."

With that, the goddesses disappeared in a flash, and Mort changed back to himself, sans his ratty clothes, which had fallen off when he turned into poultry. ****

"Oh gack!" cried MysticButtCrystal. "Why couldn't you plothole your clothes back on like Ryoga does?"

Mort sniffed derisively and pulled his pants on.


	12. Arrowproof Vests and Those Who Lack Them

Spoofmaster and MysticButtCrystal drifted through a flooded tomb in a brightly colored raft. Stiff cobras leaned listlessly against the edges of the pots they should have been swaying around in, and most of the lights were turned off. They passed a clearing that was supposed to be filled with treasure and a whining Arab warning them of their impending doom, but was instead empty and unlit. A giant statue, who usually waved a wand and made things vibrate cheerfully, sat still, mumbling sounds issuing from his tightly closed lips. An empty casket lit up and made mummy noises at them. The crocodile that normally lay at the water's edge, pennies gleaming enthusiastically from within its mouth, stood propped up against the wall like an odd canoe in storage.

"Where the hell are all the animatronic monsters?" asked MysticButtCrystal.

"I don't know, but at least we're on to the dreaded lava pits," sighed Spoofmaster as the raft plunged down a red-lit spiraling slide, noticeably devoid of the sound effects and fountains that usually made it look like a lava pit. The raft exited the dreaded lava pits, went down a brief slide outdoors, and beached itself in the exit pool. "Well, at least it wasn't as bad as the dinosaur ride."

We see the dinosaur ride, with the sharp-toothed apatasaurus hanging half out of the wall supported by pulleys with various streamers advising people to use "CAUTION" hanging off his face as he vibrated gently, the t-rex standing motionless with tennis balls, empty soda cans, and used gum in his mouth, and the other dinosaur lying in the corner in pieces, surrounded by various toolboxes and the remains of a technician's lunch. 

"What the hell, did they just decide that this year all their rides should look like crap?" wondered MysticButtCrystal. "Let's just go home and write that damn Lord of the Crap crap."

The Fellowship were sleeping in a tree, where they had been put after Galadriel and Celeborn had decided that they should just let them spend the night and leave. Actually, Celeborn came up with that idea. Galadriel just screamed incoherently about unrelated subjects.

Frodo lay awake, long after Legolas ceased his sniffling and began to snore. Frodo was pretty sure that normal elves didn't snore, but since when was Legolas a normal elf?

Frodo snuck down out of the tree, seeking water, a place to pee, and a brief melodramatic scene that would focus solely on him. He managed to climb halfway down before falling, and suffered only heavy bruising.

Galadriel stood in a clearing next to a mirror covered in water. She looked up when Frodo stumbled out from between the trees, and spoke to him.

"Hey, little short guy!" she greeted him. "Wanna look in a mirror? It's all scary! Wooooo!"

"Uhmm, I'd rather not," replied Frodo.

"Aw, but it would make Galadriel happy!" insisted Galadriel. "Look!"

She grabbed his head and forced his face practically into the water.

The scene he saw was a ghastly one. The Shire was invaded by orcs, and the hobbits rounded up. The more attractive ones were packaged and sold in porn shops as sex toys, and the rest were sent to toil in the fields and factories, where they were forced to tighten bolts quickly and were subjected to humiliating eating machines, never really producing anything, but keeping up the toiling quotas, which must be met in order to avoid undue cheerfulness and hope. Frodo gasped and pulled away, falling to the ground.

"Galadriel sees it too," sighed Galadriel.

"You see the enslavement of my race?" asked Frodo.

"Umm, no," said Galadriel. "Galadriel sees herself in a Japanese cartoon. Weird, huh?"

"Uh huh...." said Frodo, backing away. "I'll just go back to my tree now."

The next day, Galadriel, Celeborn, and Haldir and his border patrol saw the Fellowship off down the river. The elves of Lothlorien supplied them with MREs, camouflage ponchos, and some rope, as well as boats. They also gave Legolas a better bow to try to make up for the way they had treated him. Aragorn got some old issues of Playboy, Frodo got a high-powered flashlight that automatically recharged itself when turned off, Boromir an arrow-proof vest, and Gimli a piece of bark, since they didn't really like him enough to give him a real gift. Merry and Pippin got nondescript belts because they were just background characters at this point. Sam received some concentrated super dirt, which he was promised would come into play later, so long as he held on to it.

When they were out on the river and out of sight of Lothlorien, Boromir heaved a sigh of relief, stripped off the arrow-proof vest, and chucked it into the water.

"What?" he asked, when everyone stared at him. "It made me look stupid!"

Most of the others rolled their eyes and looked away.

"And another thing that strikes me as odd," Boromir went on. "How do these MREs work? I mean, you just stick water in, and they burn you! And how can they be so nutritious when they are so small? When I get home, I'll have to order a mentat to figure these things out for me."

"You do that," replied Aragorn. "Minas Tirith could probably do well with a mentat's advice."

"The problem is," continued Boromir after a moment of thought, "If he's so smart, the mentat might become dissatisfied with my ability to rule. Then he'll try to assassinate me and take over my kingdom. And you know how clever a mentat is. He'll kill me with no problem!"

"One can only hope," muttered Aragorn under his breath.

"So," Boromir went on, "I'll have to kill him first! When he arrives in a crate, I can just bludgeon him to death with the crowbar I open the crate with! Problem solved. Now I just need to get home and order a mentat so I can kill him."

Aragorn stopped paddling and turned to stare at Boromir.

"You are a very stupid person," commented Aragorn, and he turned back to his rowing.

The boats drifted between two gigantic statues carved into the mountains. The hobbits and Boromir looked up in awe, and everyone else was bored and unimpressed.

"The World's Largest Ball of Twine was more interesting," sniffed Legolas.

"For once I agree, elf," said Gimli. "It was somewhat bigger, and they had funnel cakes."

"I've seen these before," commented Aragorn. "Honestly, I think my ancestors must have been compensating for something."

"I think they're cool," said Boromir. "It shows how kickass Gondor is."

"Frankly, I think Legolas's culture is more impressive than modern Gondor," grumbled Aragorn.

"Should I take that as a compliment?" wondered Legolas.

"I don't think so," replied Sam.

"Hey, it's that Gollum freak!" cried Merry, pointing at Gollum, who was hiding behind one of the feet of the statue on their right. "Do we have anything to throw at him?"

"I think so," said Sam, pulling out a paper bag from one of the packs. Inside were about a dozen stale donut men. "Try these."

Aragorn did the throwing, since he claimed to be good at throwing stuff. The first few fell short and plopped into the river, dissolving into a depressing sodden mess. However, having gotten the hang of the weight and shape of his ammunition, Aragorn managed to smack Gollum between the eyes with a particularly hard PFC.

"It hurtsises!" screamed Gollum, clawing at his face. He dashed off into the woods, where he built his reputation as a folk hero, wrestling bears and building log cabins.

Sometime later, the Fellowship decided to stop and laze around awhile, as was their custom. It was mostly because Frodo needed to pee, but, unlike the rest of the Fellowship, was too modest to just do it off the side of the boat. Besides, it was evening, and they didn't believe it would be particularly wise to continue on after dark.

Frodo immediately ran up the hill to some ruins in the distance to relieve himself. The rest of the Fellowship settled down for a rest. That is, except for Boromir, who went off after Frodo. Aragorn was tired of dealing with their bullshit, and decided that being rid of both of them, even for only a few minutes, would be nice, so he didn't do anything about it and settled in with one of his Playboys.

Boromir came up on Frodo just as he pulled his pants back up, and stood behind him.

"If you gave me the Bra, I could use it to kill all the orcs, and then everyone would like me and you wouldn't have to carry it around anymore," suggested Boromir.

"If I gave you the Bra, you'd be dancing around eating cake icing within five minutes," said Frodo. "This burden is mine to bear."

"Just give me the damn Bra or I'll kill you," stated Boromir. Frodo pulled the thing out, stared at it for a moment, and put it on.

"Arg, my eyes!" screeched Boromir, looking away. When he looked back, Frodo was gone, and he couldn't really remember why he'd let him out of his sight. Frodo had really only run off and hidden behind a tree ten feet away, but Boromir just yelled a lot and left.

Aragorn heard the yelling and went off to look for Frodo and Boromir, thinking that maybe something bad was happening. He found Frodo huddled behind the tree, clutching the Bra in his hands.

"What the hell's going on?" asked Aragorn. "Where's Boromir?"

"He ran off after trying to steal the Bra," replied Frodo all whiny-like.

"Well, I'm sure he'll turn up," sighed Aragorn. "Let's go back down to the campsite."

Just then, they heard a lot of screaming, slashing, and other sounds that occur when a Fellowship vaguely does battle with orcs. Orcs could be heard stomping up through the forest toward them.

"Run, Frodo," commanded Aragorn. "I'll find you later."

Frodo paused for a moment. "How?"

"How do you expect?" asked Aragorn, annoyed. "Orcs are stupid, and I'm a badass. After I kill them, I'll use my amazing ranger powers to track you down. Now run!"

Frodo ran off, the sounds of Aragorn killing things indistinct behind him because the story was not following Aragorn closely enough to actually tell what was happening to him. He tripped more than a blonde in a horror movie, and finally fell and landed next to Merry and Pippin, who were hiding under a log.

"In here, Frodo!" whispered Merry furiously.

"He's leaving us," said Pippin knowledgably. "He's not very smart, you know."

"Shut up, you crazy person," growled Merry. "Come on, Frodo!"

Frodo, for whatever reason, felt it would be a better idea to go on stumbling through the woods like an idiot, and did so.

"We'd better distract the orcs before they kill him," sighed Pippin. He grabbed Merry's wrist and they dashed out of their hiding place and down the hill, screaming various obscenities and general insults about the orcs' ancestry. Well, that's what Pippin yelled about. Merry's string of curses was more directed toward Pippin for being a moron who would drag someone out into a battle full of orcs.

The orcs, not particularly good at telling one short person apart from another, soon had the two surrounded. Luckily, Boromir showed up and began killing them. The orcs, not Merry and Pippin.

The orcs became somewhat distressed about Boromir's activities, and started fighting back. He still slaughtered them, but had to actually try. He was doing fairly well, until Lurtz the evil stupid retarded asshole Urukhai bastard showed up and began shooting him full of arrows from outside the fray.

"Oh, the irony!" gasped Boromir. "The painful, hideous irony!"

Seeing as Boromir was about to die, Merry and Pippin ran off again, only to be grabbed by some orcs.

"Aw, crap," commented Merry.

Boromir managed to finish off the last of the orcs that weren't evil stupid retarded asshole Urukhai bastards shooting at him from the sidelines, despite having been turned into a pincushion of 45 caliber arrows. Lurtz gave a little snorting sound, came up to within two feet of Boromir, and drew back one last arrow, intending to send it into Boromir's left eye.

Boromir ducked, and the arrow missed due to Lurtz's utter lack of real reflexes and talent. He gripped his sword and straightened up again, sweeping his blade up in an arc that took off Lurtz's left arm. At the same time, Aragorn came up from behind Lurtz, and hacked off his right arm. Lurtz was quite surprised by this development, but kicked Boromir in the face, knocking him back. He then tried to turn to face Aragorn, but Aragorn chopped off his left leg. Lurtz only managed to stay upright with extreme luck, and hopped up and down, bumping into Aragorn and getting blood all over his tunic, as high pressure blood streams shot out from his limb sockets.

"YUCK!" yelled Aragorn, and he swiped off Lurtz's last remaining limb. Boromir, who had gotten up, brought his sword down, skewering Lurtz with it and sinking it up to the hilt in his head. Sadly, all the internal trauma caused by Lurtz's arrows got the better of him, and he collapsed.

"The orcs got Merry and the other one," gasped Boromir, blood bubbling up from his mouth. "You know, the crazy one."

With that, his head sank back to the ground, and he died.

"Damnit!" cried Aragorn. "Just when you were being likable, too!"

Aragorn hefted Boromir's body, which was somewhat awkward with all the arrows sticking out everywhere, and jogged back toward the campsite.

Frodo, who had finally stopped stumbling around when he realized that no one was focusing on him anyway, reached the shore and heaved one of the boats out into the water.

"I'm going with you," said Sam, stepping out from behind a boulder, his pack already strapped to his back.

"Why should I bring you?" asked Frodo, clambering into the boat and trying to shove off with his hands.

"If you don't, you'll have no one to talk to," said Sam. "And no one to carry your stuff. And you'll probably get eaten by wargs in the first five minutes."

"Oh," said Frodo, pausing and thinking it over. "Okay then."

Aragorn came back to the campsite, where he saw Legolas and Gimli, who were surrounded by a number of dead orcs, and both standing with one foot on the same corpse. They were engaged in a heated discussion, each claiming that that particular orc was his kill. Aragorn noticed that there were exactly twenty-three orcs with fatal arrow wounds, and exactly twenty-three with fatal axe wounds. The one they were contesting had had its gut ripped open with an axe and its intestines strewn over the ground. However, it also had the back end of an arrow jutting out of its right ear, and the front coming out the left. Judging by the clotting, Aragorn guessed that it had received both wounds at the same time.

"Have you two seen any of the hobbits?" asked Aragorn.

"No, they all ran off," replied Gimli. While Gimli looked away, Legolas tried furiously to stuff the orc's intestines back into its body to strengthen his position. Mostly he just made a big mess and accidentally stuffed in a large number of pinecones.

"Well, shit," sighed Aragorn. "We'd better look for them."

He propped Boromir's corpse up in a tree so that bears wouldn't get after it.

"Holy crap, Boromir's dead!" gasped Legolas.

"That sucks," said Gimli.

Since all three possessed impressive tracking skills, it didn't take them long to decipher what had happened regarding all of the hobbits. Figuring that Sam and Frodo would continue on alone, they decided to try and rescue Merry and Pippin. After deciding this, they walked back to the campsite and cleaned Boromir up a bit and consigned him to the river in one of the boats. They then packed their things and left.

Boromir's body fell practically on top of Faramir a few hours later, as he had been sitting next to a waterfall and contemplating life. His emotions on the matter were rather mixed.

TO BE CONTINUED. Or not. It depends on if there is demand for it.

MysticButtCrystal and Spoofmaster began packing their things. It had been a good time up at Mort's cabin, but now they had to leave. They packed their things into the back of their warthog.

"But if we put these things in here, how will I stand back here and work the gun?" protested Spoofmaster.

"Why would we need you to?" retorted MysticButtCrystal.

"In case we're attacked by the Covies, stupid."

"I'll just run them over. Besides, there aren't any Covies around here."

"No one thought there were serial killers around here either, and whose house are we leaving now?"

"Just get in the passenger seat."

And off they went, still arguing down the road. Mort, relieved at their absence, quickly called the police. Unfortunately, the police had an outstanding policy regarding Mort, stating that he was to have no interaction with the town.

And so, Mort never got justice for those weeks, when two crazy people had taken over his home and eaten his food. He also lost someone who he had been gaining affection for.

Sometimes he would look up at his picture of Celestina and sigh for the love that could have been, but never was.


End file.
